^"~V 


THE 


RHETORICAL  READER, 


CONSISTING 


INSTRUCTIONS  FOR  REGULATING  THE  VOICE, 

WITH    A 

. 

RHETORICAL   NOTATION, 

ILLUSTRATING  INFLECTION,  EMPHASIS  AND  MODULATION ; 

AND  A   COURSE   OF 

RHETORICAL  EXERCISES. 

DESIGNED  FOR  THE  USE  OF  ACADEMIES  AND  HIGH-SCHOOLS. 


BY  EBENEZER  PORTER,  D.D., 

LA.TK   PRESIDENT   OF  THE   THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY,  ANDOVKR. 


NEW    AND    ENLARGED    EDITION. 


NEW  YORK: 

PUBLISHED   BY  MARK  H.   NEWMAN  &  CO., 
No.    199    BROADWAY 

1848. 


\ 


>  N       * 

'/'  -V 


EJCTIRID,  accordiog  to  Act  of  Coagmw,  la  tb«  year  183S,  by 

PLAGO    k.    GOULD, 
!•  the  Clerk's  Ofllee  of  the  Diitrlct  Court  of  Manachaiettt. 


BmEBD,  »ecnrdm«  to  Ace  of  Conpen  la  the  yew  IMS,  by 

MARK  II.   MEWMA.V  i 
In  Ibe  Clerk1.  Office  for  Ibe  Sotuteni  Diitrlcl  of  New  York. 


x'  'V 

REFACE 


THOUGH  for  many  years  after  I  began  to  investigate  the 
principles  of  rhetorical  delivery,  I  had  no  intention  of  writing 
any  thing  on  the  subject  for  publication,  I  was  at  last  drawn 
into  this  measure,  gradually  and  almost  unavoidably.  The 
bad  habits  in  elocution,  acquired  by  many  educated  young 
men,  and  confirmed  with  little  regard  to  consequences,  as 
they  passed  from  one  stage  of  education  to  another,  it  was 
easy  to  see  must  become  at  once  equally  conspicuous  and 
injurious,  so  soon  as  they  should  pass  from  academical  life 
into  a  public  profession  in  which  good  speaking  is  a  prime  in- 
strument of  usefulness.  The  last  Seminary  too  which  had 
them  in  charge,  would,  by  a  misapprehension  not  very  un- 
natural, be  made  responsible,  not  merely  for  its  own  propor- 
tion, but  for  the  whole  of  these  defects.  The  only  remedy 
for  habits  thus  firmly  established,  obviously  must  lie  in  a 
patient,  elementary  process,  adapted  to  form  new  habits. 
After  a  sufficient  experiment  to  satisfy  me  that  Walker's 
elements,  as  a  text-book,  could  pot  answer  this  purpose,  I 
prepared  a  course  of  Lectures  on  the  subject.  One  of  these, 
"  on  Vocal  Inflections,"  I  consented  to  print  at  the  request 
and  for  the  use  of  the  Theological  Students,  to  whom  it  had 
been  read  ;  but  without  any  intention  that  it  should  be  pub- 
lished. The  pamphlet,  however,  went  abroad,  and  led  to 
applications  from  respectable  gentlemen,  connected  with  col- 
leges and  other  literary  institutions,  that  I  would  prepare  a 
book  of  the  same  description,  to  be  used  in  this  department 
of  a  liberal  education.  Accordingly  I  did  prepare  the  "  ANAL- 
YSIS OF  RHETORICAL  DELIVERY." 

The  preparation  of  that  work,  my  own  use  of  it  as  a 
Teacher,  and  the  testimony  of  others,  who  had  used  it,  con- 


IT  PREFACE. 

vinced  me,  soon  after  its  publication,  that  tthe  chief  princi- 
ples it  contains  may  be  understood  and  applied  by  pupils 
much  younfffr  than  those  I  had  originally  contemplated. 
Teachers  of  Academies  and  High  Schools,  who  professed  to 
hare  derived  much  assistance  from  the  ANALYSIS,  urged  me 
to  prepare  a  cheaper  book,  on  the  same  plan,  adapted  to  the 
use  of  their  pupils.  This  I  promised  to  do,  should  health  and 
engagements  permit;  but  the  execution  has  been  delayed, 
as  involving  a  sacrifice  of  the  time  which  I  earnestly  wished 
to  devote  to  the  more  appropriate  and  sacred  duties  of  my  of- 
fice ;  and  had  not  one  branch  of  these  duties  rendered  me 
necessarily  familiar  with  the  general  subject  of  this  volume, 
the  purpose  must  have  been  relinquished. 

I  have  been  the  more  cheerful,  however,  in  this  under, 
taking,  from  a  full  conviction  that  whatever  is  accomplished 
on  this  subject  in  classical  schools,  is  a  clear  gain  to  profes- 
sional education  for  the  pulpit.  To  no  possible  case,  more 
than  to  this,  is  the  maxim  applicable,  "  Prevention  is  easier 
than  cure."  Faults  which  almost  defy  correction,  might 
easily  have  been  avoided  by  skill  and  pains  in  forming  the 
early  habits. 

I  am  aware  that  there  is  already  an  ample  supply  of  books, 
furnish  excellent  reading  lessons,  without  professing  to 
give  any  instruction  in  the  art  of  reading.  But  the  want  of 
an  elementary  book  for  common  use,  in  which  the  principle* 
of  this  art  should  be  laid  down,  with  Rhetorical  Exercises, 
selected  expressly  to  illustrate  these  principles,  has  been  ex- 
tensively felt  as  a  great  deficiency.  The  RHETORICAL  READ- 
ER is  intended  to  supply  this  deficiency.  The  first  third  of 
its  matter,  is  an  abridgment  of  the  ANALYSIS,  though  with 
new  discussion  and  elucidation  of  some  important  principles, 
•  which  will  be  found  chiefly  under  the  articles,  Rrwi 
Emphatic  Inflection,  —  Quantity, — and  Compost  of  Voice. 
In  respect  to  about  two-thirds  of  its  contents,  the  book  is 
new  ;  including  thp  original  matter  just  mentioned,  and  a 


PREFACE.  V 

new  selection  of  exercises  for  Part  II.  This  selection  has 
been  made  with  much  care  and  from  an  extensive  range  of 
writers,  British  and  American.  In  making  it,  regard  has 
been  paid,  first  to  the  moral  sentiment  of  the  pieces,  as  suit- 
ed to  make  a  safe  and  useful  impression  on  the  young ;  next 
to  that  rhetorical  execution  which  may  elevate  their  taste ; 
and  finally  to  such  variety  and  vivacity,  in  the  subjects  and 
kinds  of  composition,  as  may  sustain  an  undiminished  interest 
throughout. 

To  attain  brevity  in  each  Exercise,  the  connection  of  the 
writer  has  sometimes  been  broken  by  omissions  longer  or 
shorter,  without  notice  ;  the  mention  of  which  fact  in  this 
manner,  I  hope  may  be  sufficient,  without  further  apology. 

A  word  of  explanation  is  necessary  on  another  point.  It 
was  my  intention  to  include  in  the  Exercises,  Part  II.,  a  great- 
er proportion  of  extracts  from  the  Bible,  than  I  have  done  in 
Part  I. ;  both  because  I  think  it  furnishes  many  of  the  best 
lessons  for  rhetorical  reading ;  and  because  the  book  which, 
more  than  all  others,  is  adapted  to  promote  the  sanctification 
and  salvation  of  the  young,  has  been  too  much  neglected  in 
all  departments  of  education.  But  as  I  wished  to  make  this 
selection,  not  for  the  young  merely,  but  also  with  a  special 
view  to  those  who  are  called  to  read  the  Bible  as  heads  of 
families,  or  still  more  publicly  as  preachers  of  the  Gospel, 
sufficient  room  for  it  could  not  be  found  in  the  present  vol- 
ume. I  therefore  concluded  to  defer  this  part  of  my  plan, 
with  the  hope  that  I  may  compile  a  separate  collection  of 
BIBLICAL  EXERCISES,  of  perhaps  150  pages,  to  which  a  rhe- 
torical notation  will  be  applied,  and  which  may  be  a  proper 
sequel  both  to  the  ANALYSIS,  and  RHETORICAL  READER. 

Should  this  little  book  be  found  useful  in  advancing  the 
interests  of  Christian  Education  the  best  wishes  of  its  author 
will  be  answered. 

E.  PORTER. 

Theological  Seminary, 

Andover,  May,  1831. 


REMARKS    TO    TEACHERS. 


To  those  who  may  use  this  book,  I  have  thought  it  proper 
to  make  the  following  preparatory  suggestions. 

1.  In  a  large  number  of  those  who  are  to  be  taught  read- 
ing and  speaking,  the  first  difficulty  to  be  encountered  arises 
from  bad  habits   previously   contracted.      The   most  ready 
way  to  overcome  these,  is  to  go  directly  into  the  analysis  of 
vocal  sounds,  as  they  occur  in  conversation.     But  to  change 
a  settled  habit,  even  in  trifles,  often   requires  perseverance 
for  a  long  time  ;  of  course  it  is  not  the  work  of  a  moment,  to 
transform  a  heavy,  uniform  movement  of  voice,  into  one  that 
is  easy,  discriminating,  and  forcible.     This  is  to  be  accom- 
plished, not  by  a  few  irresolute,  partial  attempts,  but  by  a 
steadiness  of  purpose,  and  of  effort,  corresponding  with  the 
importance  of  the  end  to  be  achieved.     Nor  should  it  seem 
strange  if,  in  this  process  of  transformation,  the  subject  of  it 
should  at  first  appear  somewhat  artificial  and  constrained  in 
manner.     More  or  less  of  this  inconvenience  is  unavoidable, 
in  all  important  changes  of  habit.    The  young  pupil  in  cliimir- 
raphy  never  can  become  an  elegant  penman,  till  his  bad  hahit 
of  holding  the  pen  is  broken  up ;  though  for  a  time  the  change 
may  have  made  him  write  worse  than  before.     In  respect 
to  Elocution,  as  well  as  every  other  art,  the  case  may  be  in 
some  measure  similar.     But  let  the  new  manner  become  so 
familiar  as  to  have  in  its  favor  the  advantages  of  habit,  and 
the  difficulty  ceases. 

2.  The  pupil  should  learn  the  distinction  of  inflections,  by 
reading  the  familiar  examples  under  one  rule,  occasionally 
turning  to  the  Exercises,  when  more  examples  are  necessary  ; 
iiiid  the  Teacher's  voice  should  set  him  right  whenever  he 
aakes   a    mistake.      In   the   same   manner,  he   should  go 

!i  ;ill  the  rules  successively.     If  he  acquires  th. 
;  •  »o  great  or  too  little  extent  to  his  slides  of 
ho  should  be  carefully  corrected,  according  to  the  sugges- 
tions gn<'n.  p   '-'"  and  110. — After  getting  the  command  of 
the  voice,  the  great  point  to  be  steadily  kept  in  view,  is  to 
apply  the  principles  of  emphasis  and  inflection,  just  as  nature 


DIRECTIONS    TO    TKACHERS.  Vll 

and  sentiment  demand.  In  respect  to  those  principles  of 
modulation,  in  which  the  power  of  the  voice  so  essentially 
consists,  we  should  always  remember  too,  that,  as  no  theory 
of  the  passions  can  teach  one  to  be  pathetic,  so  no  descrip- 
tion that  can  be  given  of  the  inflection,  emphasis,  and  tones, 
which  accompany  emotion,  can  impart  this  emotion,  or  be  a 
substitute  for  it.  No  adequate  description  indeed  can  be 
given  of  the  nameless  and  ever  varying  shades  of  expression, 
which  real  pathos  gives  to  the  voice.  Precepts  here  are  only 
subsidiary  helps  to  genius  and  sensibility. 

3.  Before  any  example  or  exercise  is  read  to  the  Teach- 
er, it  should  be  studied  by  the  pupil.    At  the  time  of  reading, 
he  should  generally  go  through,  without  interruption;  and 
then  the  Teacher  should  explain  any  fault,  and  correct  it  by  the 
example  of  his  own  voice,  requiring  the  parts  to  be  repeated. 
It  would  be  useful  often  to  inquire  why  such  a  modification 
of  voice  occurs,  in  such  a  place,  and  how  a  change  of  struc- 
ture would  vary  the  inflection,  stress,  &c. ;  in  other  words,  to 
accustom  the  pupil  to  paraphrase  the  meaning  conveyed  by 
different  expressions  of  voice ;  as  in  the  example,  p.  32,  at 
the  close  of  Rule  IV.,  and  p.  43,  bottom.     When  the  exam- 
ples are  short,  as  in  all  the  former  part  of  the  work,  reference 
may  easily  be  made  to  any  sentence  ;  and  in  the  long  exam- 
ples, the  lines  are  numbered  on  the  left  hand  of  the  page, 
to  facilitate   the   reference,  after  a  passage  has  been  read. 
If  an  Exercise  is  read  by  a  class  in  turn,  it  would  be  useful, 
at  least  occasionally,  to  call  on  two  or  more  of  the  number 
to  remark  on  the  manner  of  the  reader,  proposing  corrections, 
with  reasons,  before  the  remarks  of  the  Teacher  are  made. 
This  will  render  them  vigilant  and  intelligent,  in  the  constant, 
practical  application   of  theoretic   principles;    thus   leading 
them  to  regard  a  proper  management  of  voice  as  both  an  art 
and  a  science. 

4.  When  any    portion   of    the   Exercises  is  about  to   be 
committed  to  memory  for  declamation,  the  pupil  should  first 
study  the  sentiment  carefully,  entering  as  far  as  possible,  into 
the  spirit  of  the  author ;  then  transcribe  it  in  a  fair  hand ; 
then  mark  with  pencil,  the  inflections,  emphasis,  &c.,  required 
on  different  words ;  then  read  it  rhetorically  to  his  Teacher, 
changing  his  pencil  marks  as  the  case  may  require  ;  and  then 
commit  it  to  memory  perfectly,  before  it  is  spoken ;  as  any 
labor  of  recollection  is  certainly  fatal  to  freedom,  and  variety, 
and  force  in  speaking.     In  general  it  were  well  that  the  same 


viii  i.iKKt-nuNs  TO  TEACHERS. 


piece  should  be  subsequently  mi'-e  more  repeated,  with  a 
view  to  adopt  the  suggestions  of  the  Instructor.  Fur  the  pur- 
pose of  improvement  in  elocution,  a  piece  of  four  or  five 
minutes,  is  better  than  one  of  fiftem  ;  and  more  advance 
may  be  made,  in  managing  the  voice  and  countenance,  by 
speaking  several  limit,  a  short  speech,  though  an  old  one, 
(if  it  is  done  with  due  care  each  time  to  con  ret  what  was 
amiss,)  than  in  speaking  ni.-iny  l<>n^  pieces,  however  spirited 
<>r  nr\r,  which  are  but  half  committed,  and  in  the  delivery  of 
which  all  scope  of  feeling  and  adaptation  of  manner,  are 
frustrated  by  labor  of  memory.  The  attempt  to  speak  with 
this  indolent  halting  preparation,  is  in  all  respects  worse  than 
nothing. 


^ 

' 

{ 

. 
ft. 

KEY  OF  RHETORI 

KEY  OF  INFLECTION. 
-  denotes  monotone. 

CAL  NOTATION. 

(  °  )  low. 
(00)  low  and  loud. 
(  •  •  )  slow. 
(—  )  quick. 

c 
' 

4 

KEY  OF  MODULATION. 
(°)  high. 
(°°)  high  and  loud. 

(  jj  )  rhetorical  pause. 
(<)  increase. 

~^~-^-^'^-^-^-^-^-^------ 

CONTENTS. 


Page 

CHAP.  I.      READING  :  its  connection  with  good  education  .  .      13 

Grammatical  reading            ....  21 

Rhetorical  Reading        .            .            .  .      21 

CHAP.  II.     ARTICULATION           .....  22 

Causes  of  defective  articulation             .            .  .22 

Difficulty  of  many  consonant  sounds           .           '  .  23 

Immediate  succession  of  similar  sounds             *  .24 

Influence  of  accent  .....  25 

Tendency  to  slide  over  unaccented  vowels        .  .      25 

Cautions       ......  26 

CHAP  III.   INFLECTIONS       ......      27 

Description  of  Inflections     ....  27 

Classification  of  Inflections        .            .            .  .28 

RULE  I.        Influence  of  disjunctive  or  on  Inflection      .            .  29 

RULE  II.      Of  the  Direct  Question  and  its  answer  .            .  .29 

RULE  III.    Of  Negation  opposed  to  Affirmation            .            .  30 

RULE  IV.     Rising  Inflection. — Of  the  pause  of  Suspension  .      31 

RULE  V.      Of  the  influence  of  Tender  Emotion  on  the  voice    .  32 

RULE  VI.     Of  the  Penultimate  Pause          .            .            .  .33 

Falling  Inflection     ..... 

RULE  VII.  Of  the  indirect  Question  and  its  Answer           .  .      33 

RULE  VIII.  The  language  of  Authority. — Of  surprise,  &c.        .  34 

RULE  IX.     Emphatic  succession  of  particulars        .            .  .35 

RULE  X.      Emphatic  repetition              ....  36 

RULE  XI.     Final  Pause       .  ....      36 

RULE  XII.  The  Circumflex        .....  37 

CHAP.  IV.  ACCENT  ......      38 

CHAP.  V.     EMPHASIS 39 

SECT.  I.       Emphatic  Stress             .            .            .            .  .39 

Absolute  Emphatic  Stress    ....  41 

Antithetic  or  Relative  Emphatic  Stress             .  .      42 

SECT.  2.       Emphatic  Inflection              ....  43 

Emphatic  Clause            .            .            .            .  .45 

Double  Emphasis     .....  46 

CHAP.  VI.  MODULATION       .            .            .            .            .  .47 

SECT.  1.       Faults  of  Modulation            .            .            .            .  47 

Monotony           .             .             .             .             .  .47 

Mechanical  Variety              ....  48 

SECT.  2.       Remedies            .            .            .             .            .  .48 

The  spirit  of  Emphasis  to  he  cultivated        .            .  48 

A  habit  of  discrimination  as  to  Tones  and  Inflection  .       51 

SECT.  3.       Pitch  of  voice            .....  51 

SECT.  4.       Quantity             .            .            .            .            .  .52 

Rotundity  and  Fullness       ....  52 

Loudness            .            .            .            .            .  .54 

Time              ......  54 

Strength  of  voice  depends  on    good  organs  of 
speech.  &c. 


X  CONTENTS. 

Direction*  for  preserving  and  strengthening  them         .       M 

Rale  of  utterance     . 

«ECT.  5.      Compa««  of  Voice 

SECT.  6.       Rhetorical  Pause 

SECT.  7.      Transition          ...... 

SECT.  8.       Expression 

SECT.  9.       Rhetorical  Dialogue      ..... 
SECT.  10.     The  Reading  of  Poetry        .... 
CHAP.  VII.  GESTURE  .  •      jj? 

Kxj.ression  of  countenance 

Altitude  ...... 

FaulU  of  Rhetorical  Action 

Gesture  may  want  appropriateness  and  discrimination 

May  be  too  constant,  or  violent,  or  complex,  or  uniform       7t 

Mechanical  variety        .  • 

Use  of  right  hand  and  left     . 

EXERCISES. 

PART   I. 

Preparatory  Remark* 

EXERCISES  ON  ARTICULATION. 
Exercise    1.  ... 

I AERCISES  ON  INFLECTION. 
Exercise    '2.  Disjunctive  or    .  .  . 

3.  Direct  Question,  &c.  .  . 
Conjunctive  or  .                                      ... 

4.  Negation  opposed  to  Affirmation    . 

Comparison  and  Contrast         .  .  .  .82 

5.  Pause  of  Suspension 

6.  Tender  Emotion  ..... 

7.  Indirect  Question,  &c.        .  . 

8.  Language  of  Authority,  Surprise,  dur. 

9.  Emphatic  Succession,  &c. 

10.  Emphatic  Repetition     .  .  .99 

EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS. 
Exercise  11—17.  Absolute  and  Relative  Stress,  and  Emphatic  )        ]AI 

Inflection  .  .  .  .  J 

18.  Difference  between  common  and  Intensive  Inflection      lit 

;    [8Bfl  ON  MODULATION. 
Ex<  rcise  19.  COMPASS  of  VOICE       ...  .1 

TRANSITION  ..... 

90.  The  power  of  Eloquence 
•JI.    lloh'-iiliii.li-n  ..... 

23.  Battle  of  Waterloo D'J 

vTl    N.  fitft  ••1).|i|.!.uiit   ..... 

94.  Marco  Bonaris  .  .  .  -        '    • 

95.  Extract  from  Paradise  Lost 

EXPRESSION      .  .  .  .  >  .!-'-> 

96.  Jodah's  Speech  to  Joseph  .... 

97.  Joseph  disclosing  himself          ....     !-''• 

. 
Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore  .  .  .1 

nirnting  the  loss  of  Psradiss  .  .  129 


CONTENTS.  XI 


Page 

Exercise  31.  Soliloquy  of  Hamlet's  Uncle     .  .  .  .129 

RHETORICAL  DIALOGUE        ....          l3i 

32.  Examples  from  the  Bible          .  .  .  .     I3t 


.        EXERCISES. 

PART   II. 
Exercise 

33.  Character  of  Columbus      ....  Irving.  136 

34.  The  Victim       ....          Philadelphia  Casket.  138 

35.  Conflagration  at  Rome  of  an  Amphitheatre          .  Croly.  138 

36.  The  African  Chief        .....     Bryant.  14i 

37.  Riches  of  a  poor  Barber     .  .  .      Edinburgh,  Paper.  142 

38.  Burning  of  the  Fame  N.  Y.Atlas.  144 

39.  Hour  of  Prayer       ....  Mrs.  Hcmans.  147 

40.  My  Mother's  Grave      .....    Anonym.  148 

41.  A  Tale  of  Waterloo  ....          Anonym.  15t 

42.  The  righteous  never  forsaken  .  .  .    N.  Y.  Spectator.  152 

43.  To  Printers  .....  Fisher  Ames.  154 

44.  Washington       .....  Pierpont.  156 

45.  Miserable  case  of  a  Weaver  .  .         Bell's  Messenger.  157 

46.  Tomb  of  Washington    ......        159 

47.  Destruction  of  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem  by  fire     .        MUlman.  162 

48.  The  Charnel  Ship         .  .  .  Charleston  Courier.  165 

49.  Life — a  Spanish  Poem    '   .  .  .     Edinburgh  Review.  167 

50.  Death  and  the  Drunkard          .  .  .  .  .168 

51.  The  Plague  in  London       ....        Rothelan.  17t 

52.  The  Battle  of  Borodino  .  .  .  .  .172 

53.  Shipwreck  .  .  .  Frcdericksburg  Arena.  173 

54.  The  Bucket— a  Cold  Water  Song         .  .  Wood-worth.  175 

55.  Anecdote  of  Judge  Marshall  .  Winchester  Republican.  176 

56.  The  First  and  Last  Ticket        .  Manuscript  of  a  Criminal.  178 

57.  Death  at  the  Toilet  .        From  the  Diary  of  a  Physician.  184 

58.  Sabbath  Schools  ....     Frelinghuysen.  186 

59.  The  folly  and  wickedness  of  War   .  .  .  Knox.  188 

60.  The  Warrior      ....         ff.if  ringer  of  Peace.  190 

61.  Death  of  Ashmun  .  .  .         Mrs.  Sigourney.  191 

62.  Love  of  Applause  .....     Hawes.  192 

63.  Christian  Integrity  ....  Hawes.  193 

64.  Watch  .  .  .  ,  .  J.  Mason  Good.  194 

65.  New  social  order  in  America  .  .  .         Douglas,  19G 

66.  Voluntary  association     ....  Douglas.  197 

67.  Bible  Societies  .....        Douglas.  198 

68.  Christ's  entry  into  Jerusalem     .  .  .      Cunningham.  199 

69.  Evening  Hymn         .  .  .  Monthly  Visitor.  200 

70.  Universal  Peace  .  .  .  Chalmers,  201 

71.  The  Elder's  Death  Bed        .  .  Prof.  Wilson.  202 

72.  Benevolence  of  God       ....  Chalmers.  207  • 

73.  Death  of  Princess  Charlotte  .  .  Robert  Hall.  208 

74.  Remarkable  preservation  from  death  at  Sea      .     Prof.  Wilson.  210 

75.  The  Bible  the  best  Classic     ....         Grimke.  214 

76.  Fathers  of  New  England  .  .  .  Spragiie.  215 

77.  Duty  of  Literary  men  to  their  Country        .  .         Grimke.  218 

78.  Eulogy  on  Adams  and  Jefferson  .  .  .       Wirt.  219 

79.  The  Greek  Revolution  .         Webster.  221 


XI! 


80.  Triumph  of  the  Gospel 

81.  Duties  and  Prospects  of  New  England  . 
89.  The  Sabbath  School  Teacher 

83.  Motives  of  the  Gospel      . 

84.  Character  "i  RHianl  Reynolds 
86.  Address  of  the  Bible  Society— 1816. 

86.  Roman  Si.Mi.  r ;—  Last  days  of  llcrculancum 

87.  The  Orphan  Boy 

88.  Chrwtiuu  Consolation 

89.  Cruelty  to  Animals 

'.XI    CliriMi  niity    ..... 

91.  Character  of  Mrs.  Graham 

93.  Living  to  God 

93.  Plea  for  Africa     . 

y  I.  Abolition  of  the  Slave  Trade 

95.  Eliza 

96.  Character  of  Mr.  Brougham 

97.  Character  of  Mr.  WUberforce 

98.  Eulorium  on  Mr.  Fox 

99.  Death  of  Shfrid.m 

100.  The  last  family  of  Eastern  Greenland 
1LM.  Tli,  < 'ny  aii.l  thf  Country 
^uinmary  Punishment 

t  ..I  his  Mother's  Picture    . 
I'M.   I  [tract  lYoni  ••  The  Grave"  . 
Defence  of  Johnson 

;  of  Warsaw     .... 

107.  Lord  <  tiatham     .... 

108.  Mr.  Fox,  ami  Mr  Pitt 

109.  i  :  .t h. ii n  . 
no.  i                :•!(!         . 

111.   Provhlrnliitl  Distinction* 
11-    l.liMjucnce  of  Bossuet 

••••  of  P.nurilnloae 
114.  Eloquence  of  Brulaine 
1  !.">.    I.!  iqui  .•:•      i't'  Wtuti  fit-lil   . 

-  I.-iiii'  nt.ition. 
117.  . 

-j.mt  of  the  American  Revolution     . 

:a    . 
190.  Patriotism  of  1775       . 

Pendulum 
t..ry  Hymn       . 
nc  from  Pizarro 

. 
196.  The  Dead  Sea       . 

n 

,.*haphat 

,    -  Hnltle       . 

199.  Niagara 
130.  On  a  very  old  Wedding  Ring 

'  hristmas  Hymn 
133.  Thou  art  gone  to  the  Grave 
Arrrvntx 


I',r<. 


James.  237 
DttigU.  -^ 
Tkorpe.  930 


AlMmtone.  939 

Mm.  Oj,ie.  iJ35 

236 

Cmrpcr.  '237 
Maun.  238 
Mason.  240 
Griffin,  241 

Christian  it 
. 
.    Strrirf'. 

^  •!•         ."•! 
M  l>  «      '  .  ..  'JVi 

Oeot 

Montpomr 

Can- 

.  Campi* 

Butler.  263 

/ 

Per 

Percy.  269 

Pol 
. 

Butler.  V73 
.       Bui;. 

Gill 
. 


J. 


i 

Pk>Uipt. 

P.  Henry. 

Jane  Taylor. 


Dtrzkan, 

. 

Ckattavbnnnil. 


Gforge  W.  Doom   L  I.I' 


984 
286 
989 

293 

301 
309 
304 

::d7 

307 

308 
MD 


THE 


RHETIRICAL    READER, 

CHAPTER  I. 

READING.       ITS   .CONNECTION    WITH    GOOD    EDUCATION. 

THE  art  of  reading  well  is  indispensable  to  one  who  ex- 
pects to  be  a  public  speaker ;  because  the  principles  on  which 
it  depends  are  the  same  as  those  which  belong  to  rhetorical 
delivery  in  general,  and  because  nearly  all  bad  speakers 
were  prepared  to  be  so,  by  early  mismanagement  of  the 
voice  in  reading. 

But  the  subject  is  one  of  common  interest  to  all,  who 
aim  at  a  good  education.  Every  intelligent  father,  who 
would  have  his  son  or  daughter  qualified  to  hold  a  respect- 
able rank  in  well-bred  society,  will  regard  it  as  among  the 
very  first  of  polite  accomplishments,  that  .they  should  be 
able  to  read  well.  But  beyond  this,  the  talent  may  be  ap- 
plied to  many  important  purposes  of  business,  of  rational 
entertainment,  and  of  religious  duty.  Of  the  multitudes 
who  are  not  called  to  speak  in  public,  including  the  whole 
of  one  sex,  and  all  but  comparatively  a  few  of  the  other, 
there  is  no  one  to  whom  the  ability  to  read  in  a  graceful"  and 
impressive  manner,  may  not  be  of  great  value.  In  this 
country,  then,  where  the  advantages  of  education  are  open 
to  all,  and  where  it  is  a  primary  object  with  parents  of  all 
classes,  to  have  their  children  well  instructed,  it  would  seem 
reasonable  to  presume  that  nearly  all  our  youth,  of  botli 
sexes,  must  be  good  readers.  Yet  the  number  who  can 


1  1  READING. 

properly  be  so  called,  is  comparatively  small.  No  defect  of 
vocal  organs,  nor  of  intelligence  and  sensibility,  which  may 
be  supposed  to  exist  among  the  pupils  of  our  schools,  is  suf- 
ficient to  account  for  the  wretched  habits  of  reading,  which 
ire  so  prevalent.  The  fact  must  be  ascribed  to  causes 
more  unquestionable  and  radical  in  their  operation;  and 
these  causes,  in  my  opinion,  are  to  be  found  chiefly,  in  the 
inadequate  views  of  the  subject,  entertained  by  those  to 
whom  the  interests  of  early  education  are  committed. 

Notwithstanding  the  manifest  advances  in  public  sen- 
timent respecting  this  matter,  which  we  have  witnessed 
within  a  few  years,  there  are  still  many  Teachers,  and  pub- 
lishers of  reading  lessons,  who  maintain  that  no  precepts  as 
to  management  of  voice  can  be  useful  to  the  young  ;  but 
that  every  thing  of  this  sort  tends  to  embarrass  rather  than 
aid  the  attainment  of  a  good  elocution.  But  if  it  is  enough 
to  put  a  book  into  the  hands  of  a  pupil,  and  require  him  to 
read,  without  giving  him  any  instructions  how  to  read,  then 
I  ask,  among  the  past  generations,  who  have  been  treated 
just  in  this  manner,  why  have  not  all,  or  nearly  all,  become 
good  readers  ?  Teachers  have  been  sufficiently  sparing  of 
rules ;  and  if  a  boy  was  only  careful  to  speak  his  words 
distinctly  and  fluently,  and  "  mind  the  stops,"  nothing  more 
was  required.  Elementary  books  too  have  been,  till  of  late, 
nearly  silent  as  to  precepts  for  regulating  the  manner  in 
reading.  Some  of  these  did  formerly  give  the  three  follow- 
ing directions : — that  the  parenthesis  require*  a  quick  and 
weak  pronunciation  ; — that  the  voice  should  be  raised  at  the 
end  of  a  question; — and  dropped  into  a  cadence,  at  the  end 
of  all  other  sentence*.  The  first  direction,  as'  to  the  paren- 
thesis, is  proper  in  all  cases.  The  second  is  proper  in  all 
questions  answered  by  yes  or  no,  and  improper  in  all  others. 
Hence  the  teacher  found  (!><•  instincts  of  every  child  to  re- 
bel against  the  rule,  in  reading  such  questions  as, — "  \Vlx> 
art  thou  '.'"  "  Where  is  boast;  — and  just  so,  as  to 


READING.  15 

the  last  rule,  respecting  cadence,  when  a  sentence  ends  with 
an  antithetic,  negative  clause  ;  as,  "  You  were  paid  to  fight 
against  Alexander,  not  to  rail  at  him." 

But  because  very  defective  precepts  are  useless  or  per- 
nicious, does  it  follow  that  this  interesting  subject  must  be 
left  to  accident ;  so  that  if  any  one  becomes  a  good  reader, 
it  shall  be  only  because  it  happens  to  be  so  ?  Then  it  will 
doubtless  happen,  in  time  to  come,  as  it  has  in  time  past, 
that  the  number  of  good  readers  will  be  few,  very  few. 

In  answer  to  this  question,  some  who  discard  all  theory 
in  elocution,  would  probably  say, — we  would  by  no  means 
leave  the  learner  to  chance ;  we  would  have  him  imitate  his 
Teacher,  who  should  be  qualified  to  correct  his  faults  of 
manner,  by  exemplifying  himself  what'is  right,  and  what  is 
wrong,  in  any  given  case.  Doubtless  the  Teacher  should 
watch  every  opportunity  to  aid  his  pupil  in  this  manner. 
But  when  he  reads  a  sentence  well,  as  an  example  to  his  pu- 
pil, is  this  done  by  accident  ?  Is  there  no  reason  why  his 
emphasis  is  laid  on  one  word  rather  than  another  ? — why  it 
is  strong  or  weak  ? — why  his  pauses  are  long  or  short  ? — 
why  he  makes  a  difference  between  a  parenthetic  clause  and 
another  ? — why  his  voice  turns  upward  on  one  word,  and 
downward  on  another  ? — why  he  ends  a  sentence  with  a 
small  cadence,  or  a  great  one,  or  with  no  cadence,  as  cases 
vary  ?  Is  all  this  mere  chance  ?  If  so,  the  pupil  may  as 
well  be  left  to  chance  without,  as  with  a  Teacher.  If  not ; 
— if  the  Teacher  has  a  reason  why  he  reads  so,  and  not 
otherwise,  cannot  lie  tell  that  reason  ?  This  is  what  com- 
mon sense  requires  of  him,  to  teach  by  precept  and  exam- 
ple both.  Besides ; — what  if  that  Teacher  reads  badly, 
himself;  just  because  they  who  were  his  patterns,  during 
the  formation  of  his  early  habits,  were  bad  readers  ?  Must 
we  go  on  still  at  the  same  rate,  and  insist  on  it  that  the 
proper  remedy  for  bad  reading,  is  the  imitation  of  bad  ex- 
amples? Then  we  have  no  remedy.  But  common  sense, 


16 


I  «ay  again,  would  combine  practice  with  theory;  so  that 
the  Teacher,  knowing  the  conformity  between  thought  and 
vocal  language,  may  not  only  express  this  conformity  by  his 
own  voice,  but  explain  it  to  his  pupils. 

There  are  others,  who  would  discard  any  systematic  in- 
struction on  this  subject,  and  yet  allow  that  one  important 
direction  ought  to  be  given  and  incessantly  repeated,  name- 
ly, BE  WATCKAL.  But  what  is  it  to  be  natural  ?  The  pupil 
will  understand,  probably,  that  he  is  to  read  in  the  manner 
that  is  most  easy  to  himself,  or  that  gives  him  the  least 
trouble  ;  that  is,  the  manner  to  which  he  is  accustomed.  Bad 
as  that  manner  may  be,  the  direction  has  no  tendency  to 
mend  it ;  because  he  supposes  that  any  new  manner  would 
be  unnatural  to  hirat  But  you  correct  him  again,  and  tell 
him  to  be  natural.  The  direction  is  just,  is  simple,  is  easily 
repeated ;  but  the  infelicity  is,  that  it  has  been  repeated  a 
thousand  times,  without  any  practical  advantage.  You  tln-n 
become  more  particular,  and  tell  him  that  to  be  natural,  he 
must  enter  into  the  spirit  of  what  he  utters,  and  read  it  BO 
as  feeling  requires.  He  tries  again,  and  fails,  because  he 
attempts  to  do  what  feeling  requires,  without  feeling ;  and 
because  he  has  no  conception  what  it  is  in  his  voice  that  is 
wrong.  You  tell  him  perhaps,  lhat  he  must  drop  his  read- 
ing tone,  and  he  natural ;  but  he  understands  nothing  what 
you  mean ;  and  while  his  manner  becomes  more  rapid  or 
more  loud,  for  this  admonition,  he  goes  on  with  his  i 
still.  He  is  under  the  influence  of  an  inv.  ihit, 

which  he  acquired  from  bein^  early  accustomed  to  reed 
that  which  he  did  not  understand,  and  in  which  he  felt  no 
interest. 

To  break  up  unseemly  tones,  thus  deeply  fixed  l.y  • 
•  y  teacher  of  reading  or  speaking  finds  to  be  the  first  and 
hardest   task   in   his  employment.     I  ;ger 

theie  habits  hare  been  chn-Mir.!.  the  rnon-  .stuM>orn  they 
ne ;   and  measures  that  might  be  sufficient  to  prevent 


READING.  17 

them,  are  by  no  means  sufficient  for  their  cure.  To  do 
what  is  right,  with  unperverted  faculties,  is  ten  times  easier 
than  to  undo  what  is  wrong.  How  often  do  we  see  men  of 
fine  understanding  and  delicate  sensibility,  who  utter  their 
thoughts  in  conversation,  with  all  the  varied  intonations 
which  sentiment  requires ;  but  the  moment  they  come  to 
read  or  speak  in  a  formal  manner,  adopt  a  set  of  artificial 
tones  utterly  repugnant  to  the  spirit  of  a  just  elocution. 
Shall  we  say  that  such  men  do  not  understand  what  they 
speak  in  public,  as  well  as  what  they  speak  in  conversation  ? 
Plainly  the  difference  arises  from  a  perverse  habit,  which 
prevails  over  them  in  one  case,  and  not  in  the  other. 
Many  instances  of  this  sort  I  have  known,  where  a  man 
has  been  fully  sensible  of  something  very  wrong  in  his 
tones,  but  has  not  been  able  to  see  exactly  what  the  fault 
is ;  and  after  a  few  indefinite  and  unsuccessful  efforts  at 
amendment,  has  quietly  concluded  to  go  on  in  the  old  way. 
So  he  must  conclude,  so  long  as  good  sense  and  emotion 
are  not  an  equal  match  for  bad  habits,  without  a  knowledge 
of  those  elementary  principles,  by  which  the  needed  reme- 
dy is  to  be  applied.  These  habits  he  acquired  in  childhood, 
just  as  he  learned  to  speak  at  all,  or  to  speak  Engljsh  rather 
than  French, — by  imitation.  His  tones  both  of  passion  aud 
of  articulation,  are  derived  from  an  instinctive  correspond- 
ence between  the  ear  and  voice.  If  he  had  been  born 
deaf,  he  would  have  possessed  neither.  Now  in  what  way 
shall  he  break  up  his  bad  habits,  without  so  much  attention 
to  the  analysis  of  speaking  sounds,  that  he  can  in  some 
good  degree  distinguish  those  which  differ,  and  imitate 
those  which  he  would  wish  to  adopt  or  avoid  ?  How  shall 
he  correct  a  tone,  while  he  cannot  understand  why  it  needs 
correction,  because  he  chooses  to  remain  ignorant  of  the 
only  language  in  which  the  fault  can  possibly  be  described  ? 
Let  him  study  and  accustom  himself  to  apply  a  few  elemen- 
tary principles,  and  then  he  may  at  least  be  able  to  un- 


IB 

dentand  what  are  the  defects  of  his  intonations.  I  do  not 
say  that  this  attainment  may  be  made  with  equal  facility,  or 
to  an  equal  extent,  by  all  men.  Bat  to  an  important  extent 
it  may  be  made  by  every  one ;  and  that  with  a  moderate 
share  of  the  effort  demanded  by  most  other  valuable  acqui- 
sitions ;  I  might  say  with  one  half  the  time  and  attention 
that  are  requisite  to  attain  skill  in  music. 

Should  some  still  doubt  whether  any  theory  of  vocal  in- 
flections can  be  adopted,  which  shall  not  be  perplexing  and 
on  the  whole  injurious,  especially  to  the  young,  I  answer 
that  the  same  doubt  may  as  well  be  extended  to  every  de- 
partment of  practical  knowledge.  To  think  of  the  rules  of 
syntax,  every  sentence  we  speak,  or  of  the  rules  of  orthogra- 
phy and  style,  every  time  we  take  up  our  pen  to  write,  would 
indeed  be  perplexing.  The  remedy  prescribed  by  common 
sense  in  all  such  cases,  is,  not  to  discard  correct  theories,  but 
to  make  them  so  familiar  as  to  govern  our  practice  sponta- 
neously, and  without  reflection. 

The  benefit  of  analysis  and  precept  is,  to  aid  the  teacher 
in  making  the  pupil  conscious  of  his  own  faults,  as  a  pre- 
requisite to  thfir  correction.  The  object  is  to  unfetter  the 
soul,  and  set  it  free  to  act.  In  doing  this  a  notation  for  the 
eye,  designed  to  regulate  the  voice  in  a  few  obvious  partic- 
ulars, may  be  of  much  advantage  :  otherwise  why  shall  we 
not  dismiss  punctuation  too  from  books,  and  depend  wholly 
on  the  teacher  for  pauses,  as  well  as  tones  ? 

The  reasonable  prejudice  which  some  intelligent 
have  felt  against  any  system  of  notation,  arises  from  tin- 
preposterous  extent  to  which  it  has  been  carried,  by  n  f <  w 
popular  teachers,  and  especially  by  their  humble  imitators. 
A  judicious  medium  is  what  we  want.  Five  characters 
in  music,  nnd  six  vowels  in  writing,  ••nt«-r  into  an  infinituil«- 
of  combinations  in  melody  and  language.  So  the  element- 
ary m  .  •>  of  voice  in  speaking,  are  few  and  easily 
understood ;  and  to  mark  them,  so  far  as  distinction  is  use- 


19 


ful,  does  not  require  a  tenth  part  of  the  rules,  which  some 
have  thought  necessary. 

I  have  made  these  last  remarks,  because,  while  I  think 
it  a  mere  prejudice,  and  a  very  mischievous  one,  to  maintain 
that  there  are  no  elementary  rules  of  good  reading,  there 
is  another  extreme,  which  would  carry  theoretic  directions 
beyond  all  bounds  of  common  sense  and  practical  utility. 
I  refer  to  the  theory  which  maintains  that,  while  musical 
notes  are  uttered  without  any  slide,  the  sounds  of  articulate 
language  are  always  spoken  with  a  perceptible  slide  of  the 
voice,  either  upward  or  downward.  This,  in  my  opinion, 
is  carrying  a  useful,  general  theory,  to  an  improper  extreme. 
In  the  notes  of  a  tune  as  given  from  a  stringed  instrument, 
or  from  the  human  voice,  there  certainly  is  no  inflection. 
But  no  man  of  accurate  ear  will  say  that  there  is  any  neces- 
sary distinction  between  the  notes  sol,  fa,  as  uttered  in  mu- 
sic, and  the  same  sounds  in  speech,  where  they  occur  in 
examples  like  the  following  : 

My  soul,  how  lovely  is  the  place, 
.Pother  of  all,  in  every  age,  in  every  clime  ador'd. 
Though  it  is  possible  to  speak  the  open  vowels,  o  and  a,  in 
the  Italic  syllables,  with  inflections,  it  is  not  requisite,  nor 
natural  ;  and  if  any  think  it  to  be  so,  I  must  suppose  that 
they  have  not  been  accustomed  to  distinguish  between  a 
slide  of  the  voice,  and  that  transition  of  note  to  higher  or 
lower,  in  which  consecutive  syllables  are  uttered.  If  how- 
ever, the  position  that  every  syllable  has  a  slide,  is  held  as 
an  occult  theory,  it  is  harmless,  and  needs  not  a  moment's 
discussion;  but  if  practical  importance  is  attached  ^  to  it,  so 
that  the  learner  must  try  to  distinguish  what  slide  he  must 
give  to  each  syllable,  in  the  simplest  language,  the  theory 
becomes  positively  injurious  in  influence.  It  frustrates  all 
just  discrimination,  by  aiming  at  that  which  is  needless  and 
endless  in  minuteness.  It  operates  much  as  it  would  to  re- 
quire, by  the  Italic  character,  or  other  notation,  every  word 
in  a  sentence  to  be  spoken  with  emphatic  force. 


•-'<)  RKAHl\'. 

Now  the  most  general  principle  of  a  good  elocution  that 
can   be  laid  down   is — the   voice  mutt  conform  to  sentimnU. 
Where   the   thought    is    simple,    and   without  emotion,  as, 
••i. -in  m;iv  put   off  the  law  of  God  ;"  to  insist  on  any 
iike  marked  strew  or  inflection  i.-  m  useless. 

But  call  the  pupil  to  read  : —  Virtue,  not  rolling  suns,  the 
mind  matures  :" — or  "  Arm,  warriors  !  Ann  for  f 
and  it  is  quite  another  case.  Here  stress  and  inflection  are 
Diadod  on  the  emphatic  words.  Why  ? — Because  sense 
and  emotion  require  it.  Let  these  few  words  be. right,  and 
no  matter  for  the  rest ; — they  will  be  right,  or  nearly  so,  of 
course.  But  if  you  require  the  pupil  to  give  stress  and  in- 
flection to  all  the  words,  you  teach  him  to  sacrifice  the  senee, 
and  aim  at  conformity  to  some  arbitrary  standard  of  excel- 
lence, which  he  may  imagine  that  he  understands,  but  which 
will  ruin  all  significant  variety  in  his  intonations. 

There  is  one  great  law  of  mind,  and  of  language,  which 
Teachers  of  youth  should  well  understand,  namely,  t/uit 
emotion  speaks  with  its  own  appropriate  mode*  of  expression. 
Where  a  sentence  contains  a  simple  thought,  without  emo- 
tion of  any  sort,  it  requires  nothing  but  proper  words,  in 
grammatical  order.  No  principle  of  rhetoric  is  concerned 
in  forming  such  a  sentence,  and  none  in  uttering  it,  except 
distinctness.  But  the  moment  that  passion  speaks,  gram- 
mar is  subordinate,  and  rhetoric  becomes  ascendant.  A 
groan,  a  shriek  of  distress,  thrills  the  heart,  without  the 
help  of  syntax  ;  and  the  same  principle  exists  as  to  all  the 
lower  degrees  of  passion,  till  we  come  down  again  to  the 
mere  province  of  words,  and  grammar.  Now  passion  and 
discriminating  sentiment  demand  an  appropriate  expression 
of  voice,  not  in  the  mere  utterance  of  words,  but  in  the 
manner  of  uttering  them.  On  this  principle,  rest  all  the 
law*  of  inflection,  emphasis,  A-c  .  which  can  be  given  to  any 
valuable  purpose.  These  laws,  as  I  have  said,  are  few ;  and 
•an  be  stated  and  reduced  to  practice,  with  as  much  ease  as 
any  other  laws  of  language. 


READING.  21 


I  shall  finish  these  general  remarks,  by  laying  down  a 
plain  distinction  between  the  two  sorts  of  reading,  the  gram- 
matical, and  the  rhetorical. 

Grammatical  reading,  as  I  have  just  intimated,  respects 
merely  the  sense  of  what  is  read.  When  performed  audibly, 
for  the  benefit  of  others,  it  is  still  only  the  same  sort  of 
process  which  one  performs  silently,  for  his-  own  benefit, 
when  he  casts  his  eye  along  the  page,  to  ascertain  the 
meaning  of  its  author.  The  chief  purpose  of  the  correct 
reader  is  to  be  intelligible  ;  and  this  requires  an  accurate 
perception  of  grammatical  relation  in  the  structure  of  sen- 
tences ;  a  due  regard  to  accent  and  pauses,  to  strength  of 
voice,  and  clearness  of  utterance.  This  manner  is  gener- 
ally adopted  in  reading  plain,  unimpassioned  style.  The 
character  and  purpose  of  a  composition  may  be  such  that  it 
would  be  as  preposterous  to  read  it  with  tones  of  emotion, 
as  it  would  to  announce  a  proposition  in  grammar  or  geom- 
etry, in  the  language  of  metaphor.  But  though  merely  the 
correct  manner,  suits  many  purposes  of  reading,  it  is  dry  and 
inanimate,  and  is  the  lowest  department  in  the  province  of 
delivery.  Still  the  great  majority,  not  to  say  of  respectable 
men,  but  of  bookish  men,  go  nothing  beyond  this  in  their  at- 
tainments or  attempts. 

Rhetorical  reading  has  a  higher  object,  and  calls  into 
action  higher  powers.  It  is  not  applicable  to  a  composi- 
tion destitute  of  emotion,  for  it  supposes  feeling.  It  does 
not  barely  express  the  thoughts  of  an  author,  but  expresses 
them  with  the  force,  variety,  and  beauty,  which  feeling 
demands. 

To  this  latter  sort  of  reading  would  I  bend  all  my  efforts 
in  forming  the  habits  of  the  young.  To  this,  almost  ex- 
clusively, would  I  apply  precepts  respecting  management 
of  the  voice.  And  with  a  view  to  prevent  the  formation  of 
bad  habits,  or  to  cure  them  before  they  become  established, 
I  would  take  off  children,  just  so  soon  as  they  can  read  with 


ARTICULATION.  22 


tolerable  readiness,  from  lessons  which  belong  to  the  gram- 
matical class,  and  put  thi-in  upon  those  which  contain  some 
rhetorical  principles.  These  lessons  should,  at  first,  be 
chiefly  narrative ;  or  narrative  and  colloquial  combined  ; — 
by  which  I  mean  dialogue  proper,  or  rhetorical  dialogue; 
in  which  the  same  voice  must  represent  two  speakers,  or 
more. 


CHAPTER    II. 

ARTICULATION. 

IT  has  been  well  said,  that  a  good  articulation  is  to  the 
ear,  what  a  fair  handwriting,  or  a  fair  type  is  to  the  eye. 
Who  has  not  felt  the  perplexity  of  supplying  a  word,  torn 
away  by  the  seal  of  a  letter;  or  a  dozen  syllables  of  a 
book,  in  as  many  lines,  cut  off  by  the  carelessness  of  a 
binder  ?  The  same  inconvenience  is  felt  from  a  similar 
omission  in  spoken  language  ;  with  this  additional  disadvan- 
tage, that  we  are  not  at  liberty  to  stop,  and  spell  out  the 
meaning  by  construction. 

A  man  of  indistinct  utterance  reads  this  sentence: — 
"  The  magistrates  ought  to  prove  a  declaration  so  publicly 
made."  When  I  perceive  that  his  habit  is  to  strike  only  the 
accented  syllable  clearly,  sliding  over  others.  I  do  not  know 
whether  it  is  meant,  that  they  ought  to  prove  the  declaration, 
or  to  approve  it,  or  rrprove  it, — for  in  either  case  he  would 
speak  only  the  syllable  proi<e.  Nor  do  I  know,  whether 
the  magistrates  ought  to  do  it,  or  the  magistrates  touyht  to 
doit. 

Dtfective  articulation  arises  from  bad  organs,  or  bad  hlMil, 
or  sounds  of  difficult  utterance. 


ARTICULATION.  23 


Every  one  knows  how  the  loss  of  a  tooth,  or  a  contusion 
on  the  lip,  affects  the  formation  of  oral  sounds.  When  there 
is  an  essential  fault  in  the  structure  of  the  mouth ;  when  the 
tongue  is  disproportionate  in  length  or  width,  or  sluggish  in 
its  movements  ;  or  the  palate  is  too  high,  or  too  low ;  or  the 
teeth  badly  set  or  decayed,  art  may  diminish,  but  cannot  fully 
remove  the  difficulty.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  however, 
imperfect  articulation  comes  not  so  much  from  bad  organs,  as 
from  the  abuse  of  good  ones. 

The  animal  and  intellectual  temperament  doubtless  has 
some  connection  with  this  subject.  A  sluggish  action  of  the 
mind,  imparts  a  correspondent  character  to  the  action  of  the 
vocal  organs,  and  makes  speech  only  a  succession  of  indolent, 
half-formed  sounds,  more  resembling  the  muttering  of  a 
dream,  than  the  clear  articulation,  which  we  ought  to  expect 
in  one  who  knows  what  he  is  saying.  Excess  of  vivacity,  on 
the  other  hand,  or  excess  of  sensibility,  often  produce  a 
hasty,  confused  utterance.  Delicacy  speaks  in  a  timid,  feeble 
voice  ;  .and  the  fault  of  indistinctness  is  often  aggravated  in 
a  bashful  child,  by  the  indiscreet  chidings  of  his  teacher,  de- 
signed to  push  him  into  greater  speed  in  spelling  out  his 
early  lessons ;  while  he  has  little  familiarity  with  the  form  and 
sound,  and  less  with  the  meaning  of  words. 

The*  way  is  now  prepared  to  notice  some  of  those  dif- 
ficulties in  articulation,  which  arise  from  the  sounds  to  be 
spoken. 

The  first  and  chief  difficulty  lies  in  the  fact  that  articu- 
lation consists  essentially  in  the  consonant  sounds,  and  that 
many  of  these  are  difficult  of  utterance.  My  limits  do  not 
allow  me  to  illustrate  this  by  a  minute  analysis  of  the 
elements  of  speech. 

It  is  evident  to  the  slightest  observation  that  the  open  vowels  are 
uttered  with  ease  and  strength.  On  these,  public  criers  swell 
their  notes  to  so  great  a  compass.  On  these  too,  the  loudest  notes 
of  music  are  formed.  Hence  the  great  skill  which  is  requisite  to 


24  ARTtrri.ATinv. 


distinct  articulation  in   mini.-  ;    for  the  stream  of  voice,  which   flc  *» 
so   easily  on   the   vowels  and    li  ii  !    !>y   the  t/' 

cnrrenee  of  a  hamh    •••  .••  »ound,  bat   the 

breath,  is  entinK  •  u  mute.     Jn  -;.  i.-,  any 

syllable   whii-h  (lulu  with  /',//,  d,  or  I,  all  the  sound  IIP 

preceding  towel  ;  for  when  the  organs  come  to  the  proper 
position  for  speaking  the  mute,  the  voice  instantly  ceases.  'I 
plains  what  sometimes  has  been  thought  a  mystery,  that  stammering 
persons  find  little  ilitfirulty  in  rending  poetry,  and  none  in  singing;* 
whereas  they  stop  at  once  in  speaking,  when  they  come  to  certain  con- 
sonants. Any  one  who  would*  practically  understand  this  subject, 
should  recollect  that  the  distinction  between  human  speech,  and  the  in- 
articulate sounds  of  brutes,  lies  not  in  the  vowels,  but  in  the  consonants.  ,- 
and  that  in  a  defective  utterance  of  these,  ba'd  articulation  primarily 
consists. 

A  second  difficulty  arises  from  the  immediate  twxtuum 
of  the  tame  or  similar  sounds  :  as  in  the  recurrence  of  the 
aspirates; 

Up  the  Aigh  Afll  Ae  Aeaves  a  Auge  round  stone  : 
or  the  collision  of  open  vowels  ; 

Tbo'  oft  the  far  th«  open  vowels  tire. 

But  a  greater  difficulty  still  is  occasioned  by  the  im- 
mediate recurrence  of  the  same  consonant  sound,  without  the 
intervention  of  a  vowel  or  a  pause.  .  The  following  are  ex- 
amples :  "  For  Chris/'*  «ake."  "  The  hosfc  arill  «/ood."  "  The 
battle  lasts  still"  The  illustration  will  be  more  intelli- 
gible from  examples  in  which  bad  articulation  affects  the 


Wastes  and  deserts  ;—  Waste  sand  deserts. 
To  obtain  either  ;—  To  obtain  neither. 
Hb  cry  moved  me  ;  —  His  crime  moved  me. 
He  could  pay  nobody  ;  —  He  could  pain  nobody. 

Two  successive  sounds  are  to  be  formed  here,  with  the 
organs  in  the  same  position  ;  so  that,  without  a  pause  be- 
tween, only  one  of  the  single  sounds  is  spoken  ;  and  the  dif- 
ficulty is  much  increased  when  sense  or  grammatical  relation 
forbids  such  a  pause. 

•  This  is  partly  owing  also  tn  a 


ARTICULATION.  25 


A  third  difficulty  arises  from  the  influence  of  accent.  The 
importance  which  this  stress  attaches  to  syllables  on  which  it 
falls,  requires  them  to  be  spoken  in  a  more  full  and  deliberate 
manner  than  others.  Hence,  if  the  recurrence  of  this  stress 
is  too  close,  it  occasions  heaviness  in  utterance ;  if  too  re- 
mote, indistinctness.  In  the  example, — 

And  ten  low  words  oft  creep  in  one  dull  line, 

the  poet  compels  us,  in  spite  'of  metrical  harmony,  to  lay  an 
accent  on  each  syllable. 

But  the  remoteness  of  accent  in  other  cases  involves  a 
greater  difficulty  still ;  because  the  intervening  syllables 
are  liable  to  be  spoken  Avith  a  rapidity  inconsistent  with 
distinctness,  especially  if  they  abound  with  jarring  conso- 
nants. Combinations  of  this  kind,  we  have  in  the  words 
communicatively,  authoritatively,  terrestrial,  reasonableness, 
disinterestedness.  And  the  case  is  worse  still  where  we  pre- 
posterously throw  back  the  accent  so  as  to  be  followed  by 
four  or  five  syllables,  as  Walker  directs  in  these  words, 
receptacle,  peremptorily,  acceptableness.  While  these  com- 
binations almost  defy  the  best  organs  of  speech,  no  one  finds 
any  difficulty  in  uttering  words  combined  with  a  due  propor- 
tion of  liquids,  and  a  happy  arrangement  of  vowels  and  ac- 
cents. 

Not  so  when  swift  Camilla  scours  the  plain, 

Flies  o'er  the  unbending  corn,  and  skims  along  the  main. 

A  fourth  difficulty  arises  from  a  tendency  of  the  organs 
to  slide  over  unaccented  vowels.  There  is  a  large  class  of 
words  beginning  with  pre,  and  pro,  in  which  this  ^seldom 
fails  to  appear.  In  prevent,  prevail,  predict,  a  bad  articu- 
lation sinks  e  of  the  first  syllable  so  as  to  make  pr-vent, 
pr-vail,  pr-dict.  The  case  is  the  same  with  o  in  proceed, 
profane,  promote  ;  spoken  pr-ceed,  &c.  So  is  e  confounded 
with  short  u  in  event,  omit,  &c.,  spoken  uvvcnt>  ummit. 

In  the  same  manner  u  is  transformed  into  e,  as  in  jiopulows, 

2 


\KT1«    I    I.ATI'i.S. 


regular,  singular,  educate,  <kc.,  spoken  pop-e-lous,  reg-e-lar, 
ed-e-cate.  A  smart  percussion  of  the  tongue,  with  a  little  rest 
on  the  consonant  before  u,  so  as  to  make  it  quite  distinct, 
would  remove  the  difficulty. 

The  same  sort  of  defect,  it  may  be  added,  often  appears  in 
the  indistinct  utterance  of  consonants  ending  syllables  ;  thus 
in  aMempt,  a/-tention,  </-fect,  q/"-fence,  the  consonant  of  the 
first  syllable  is  suppressed. 

To  the  foregoing  remarks,  it  may  be  proper  to  add  three  caution*. 

The  first  is,  in  aiming  to  acquire  a  distinct  articulation,  take  care  not 
to  form  one  that  it  mrasiired  and  mtrknnical.  The  child,  in  passing 
from  hu  spelling  manner,  u  ambitious  to  become  a  swift  r<  .id. -r,  and 
thus  lulls  into  a  confusion  of  organs,  that  is  to  be  cured  only  by  retracing 
the  steps  which  produced  it.  The  remedy,  however,  is  no  better  than  tli«- 
fault,  if  it  runs  into  a  xtm-ning,  pc-dan-tic  fur-mal-i-ty,  giving  undue 
stress  to  particles  and  unaccented  syllables  ;  thus,  "  He  \*the  man  of  all 
IM/e  world  whom  I  fjoice  to  meet." 

In  some  parts  of  our  country,  there  is  a  prevalent  habit  of  sinking  the 
sound  of  e  or  i,  in  words  where  English  usage  preserves  it,  as  in  rebel, 
chapel,  Latin, — spoken  rcb'l,  ctiap'l,  Lal'n.  In  other  cases,  where  i 
lisli  usage  suppresses  the  vowel,  the  same  persons  speak  it  with  marked 
distinctness,  or  turn  it  into  i/ ;  as  rr'n,  op'n,  hear'n,  pronounced  «•-*«, 
op-un.  kear-nn. 

It  should  be  remarked  that  vowels  not  under  Uie  accent,  are  often  ut- 
tered slightly  by  good  speakers,  where  affectation,  by  trying  to  give  them 
prominence,  runs  into  a  \<  ry  faulty  pronunciation.  Thus,  in  attempting 
to  distinguish  e  from  /  in  such  words  as  inched,  gospel,  many  pronouno; 
them  wicki/d.  gospi*4,  wickudnuss,  &c.  Unaccented  vowels  are  often 
necessarily  indistinct,  e  in  wicked,  having  the  same  sound  as  i  in  i/.  So 
all  the  vowels,  a,  e,  i,  n,  u,  :/.  must  often  be  spoken  so  as  to  have  the 
sound  of  short  u  ;  as  in  scholar,  master,  satirist,  doctor,  martyr,  pro- 
nounced scholwr,  mart  r/ r,  Ac. 

The  second  caution  is, — lei  ike  dote  of  leniences  be  spoken  dearly ;  with 
sufficient  strength,  and  on  the  proper  pitch,  to  bring  out  the  meaning 
completely.  No  part  of  a  sentence  is  so  important  as  the  close,  both  in 
respect  to  sense  and  harmony. 

The  third  caution  is, — asrertain  your  oirn  Hcfccls  of  art, relation,  by  Uu 
mulofjanefritnd,  and  then  devote  a  short  time  tiatedly  and  daily,  If  car- 
rectUem.     Let  the  reader  make  a  list  of  such  words  and  combinations  as 
he  has  found  most  difficult  to  his  organs,  and  repeat  them  as  n  set  rx 
erase.      If  be  has  been    accustomed   to  say  or 

pr-matt,  pr-tent,  let   him  Irnrn  to  speak  the   unaccented  vowels  prop- 
erly.* 


hammering  and  imutdimenls,  whkh  fall  under  the  head  of  ar- 
ticulation, the  reader  may  find  my  views  in  the  Analysis  of  Rhetorical 
Defivery. 


INFLECTIONS.  27 


CHAPTER    III. 

INFLECTIONS. 

Description  of  Inflections. 

THE  absolute  modifications  of  the  voice  in  speaking  are 
four;  namely,  monotone,  rising  inflection,  falling  inflection, 
and  circumflex.  The  first  may  be  marked  to  the  eye  by  a 
horizontal  line,  thus,  (•-)  the  second  thus,  ( ' )  the  third  thus, 
(v)  the  fourth  thus,  ("). 

The  monotone  is  a  sameness  of  sound  on  successive  syl- 
lables, which  resembles  that  produced  by  repeated  strokes  of 
a  bell.  Unseemly  as  this  is,  where  varied  inflections  are  re- 
quired, it  more  or  less  belongs  to  grave  delivery,  especially 
in  elevated  description,  or  where  emotions  of  sublimity  or 
reverence  are  expressed ;  as, — 

He  rode  upon  a  cherub  and  did  fly. — I  saw  a  great  white  throne,  and 
him  that  sat  on  it. 

The  rising  inflection  turns  the  voice  upward,  or  ends  higher 
than  it  begins.  It  is  heard  invariably  in  the  direct  ques- 
tion ;  as,  Will  you  go  to-day  ? 

The  falling  inflection  turns  the  voice  downwards,  or  ends 
lower  than  it  begins.  It  is  heard  in  the  answer  to  a  ques- 
tion ;  as,  No  ;  I  shall  go  to-morrow. 

As  the  whole  doctrine  of  inflections  depends  on  these  two  simple 
slides  of  the  voice,  one  more  explanation  seems  necessary,  as  to  the 
degree  in  which  each  is  applied,  under  different  circumstances.  In  most 
cases  where  the  rising  slide  is  used,  it  is  only  a  gentle  turn  of  the  voice 
upward,  one  or  two  notes.  In  cases  of  emotion,  as  in  the  spirited,  direct 
question,  the  slide  may  pass  through  five  or  eight  notes.  The  former 
may  be  called  the  common  rising  inflection,  the  latter  the  intensive.  Just 
the  same  distinction  exists  in  the  falling  inflection.  In  the  question,  ut- 
tered with  surprise,  "  Are  you,  going  to-day?"  the  slide  is  intensive. 
But  in  the  following  case,  it  is  common,  "fame  is  Inii  breath,  as  ric/ies  are 
transitory,  and  life  itself  is  uncertain,  so  we  should  seek  a  better  portion." 
To  carry  the  rising  slide  in  the  latter  case,  as  far  as  in  the  former,  is  a 
great  fault,  though  not  an  uncommon  one. 


INM.lrl  K'.V- 


The  circumflex  is  a  union  of  the  two  inflections,  sometimes 
on  one  syllable,  and  »•  ,'ins  with 

the  falling,  and  ends  with  the  rising  slide;  as,  /  may  go  to- 
mdrrotp,  t/iouyh  1  run/tot  <j<>  to-day.  "  The\  tell  its  to  be 
moderate  ;  but  tiny,  ///«//,  are  to  revel  in  profusion."  On  the 
words  marked  in  these  examples,  there  is  a  significant  twist- 
ing of  the  voice  downwards,  and  then  upwards,  without 
which  the  sense  is  not  expressed. 

Besides  these  absolute  modifications  of  voice,  there  are  others  which 
may  be  called  relative,  and  which  may  be  classed  under  the  four 
lii.tds  of  pitch,  quantity,  rate,  and  quality.  .These  may  be  presented 
thus: 


As  those  relative  modifications  of  voice  assume  almost  an  endless 
variety,  according  to  sentiment  and  emotion  in  a  speaker,  they  belong  to 
the  chapter  on  Modulation. 


t  «f  Inflection*. 

In  order  to  render  the  new  classification  which  I  have 
given  intelligible,  I  have  chosen  examples  chiefly  from  col- 
loquial language  ;  because  the  tones  of  conversation  ought  to 
be  the  basis  of  deliver}',  and  (because  these  only  are  at  once 
recognized  by  the  ear.  Being  conformed  to  nature,  they  arc 
instinctively  right;  so  that  sr.-m-ely  a  man  in  a  million  uses 
artificial  tones  in  conversation.  And  this  one  fact.  I  remark 
in  passing,  furnishes  a  standing  canon  to  the  learner  in  elocu- 
tion. In  contending  with  any  bad  habit  let  him 

break  up  the  sentence  on   which  the  dilVx  -ulty  occurs,  and 
throw  it,  if  possible,  into   the  colloquial  form.     Let    l.im 
serve  in  himself  and  others,  the  t<  r  in 

speaking,  familiarly  and  on  comni 

As  the  difficulty  of  the  learner  at  firvt.  in  t<>  distinguish  tli.-  two  chief 
inflection*,  and  as  the  Ixnrt  n  -:n_'  thnn 

the 

in   th«-  «a  -  to 

ease*  in  which  they  are  used  sep.'  in  • 

rontinued  series  of  rules,  f»r 


INFLECTIONS.  29 


Both  Inflections  together. 

RULE  I.  When  the  disjunctive  or  connects  words  or  clauses, 
it  has  the  rising  inflection  before,  and  the  falling  after  it. 

EXAMPLES. 

Shall  I  come  to  you  with  a  rod — or  in  love  1 

The  baptism  of  John,  was  it  from  heaven — or  of  men  1 

Will  you  go — or  stay  1 

Will  you  ride — or  walk  1 

Will  you  go  to-day — or  to-morrow  1 

Did  he  travel  for  health — or  for  pleasure  ? 

Did  he  resemble  his  father — or  his  mother  1 

Is  this  book  yours — or  mine  1 

RULE  II.  The  direct  question,  or  that  which  admits  the 
answer  of  yes  or  no,  has  the  rising  inflection,  and  the  answer 
has  the  falling. 

EXAMPLES. 

Are  they  Hebrews  1  So  am  i. 

Are  they  Israelites  1  So  am  f . 

Are  they  the  seed  of  Abraham  1  So  am  I. 

Are  they  ministers  of  Christ  1  I  am  more.  [Paul.] 

Did  you  not  speak  to  it  1  My  lord,  I  did. 

Hold  you  the  watch  to-night  1 '  We  do,  my  lord. 

Arm'd,  say  you  ?  Armed,  my  lord. 

From  top  to  toe  1  My  lord,  from  head  to  foot. 

Then  saw  you  not  his  face  7  O  yes,  my  lord. 

What,  looked  he  frowningly  1  A  countenance  more  in  sorrow  than 

in  anger. 

Pale  1  Nay,  very  pale. — Shak.  Hamlet. 

Note  1.  If  I  wish  to  know  whether  my  friend  will  go  on  a  journey 
within  two  days,  I  say  perhaps,  "  Will  you  go  to-day,  or  to-morrow  1" 
He  may  answer,  "  yes,"— because  my  rising  inflection  on  both  words 
implies  that  I  used  the  or  between  them  conjunctively.  But  if  I  had 
used  it  disjunctively,  it  must  have  had  the  rising  slide  before  it,  and  the 
falling  after ;  and  then  the  question  is,  not  whether  he  will  go  within  two 
days,  but  on  which  of  the  two ; — thus,  "  Will  you  go  to-day — or  to-mor- 
row?" The  whole  question,  in  this  case,  cannot  admit  the  answer  yes  or 
no,  and  of  course  cannot  end  with  the  rising  slide. 

Note  2.  When  Exclamation  becomes  a  question,  it  demands  the  rising 
slide ;  as,  "  How,  you  say,  are  we  to  accomplish  it  7  How  accomplish 
it !  Certainly  not  by  fearing  to  attempt  it." 


30  INFLECTION*. 

ROLE  III.     When  ntyation  is  opposed  to  affirmation,  the 
former  has  the  rising,  and  the  latter  the  falling  inflection 


I  did  not  say  a  bitter  soldier,— but  an  Uder. 
Study  not  Tor  &miatmeni, — but  for  improvemftU. 
He  was  esteemed,  not  for  wealtk, — but  for  wisdom. 
He  will  not  come  to-day, — but  to-mdrrme. 
He  did  not  act  irisflu. — but  unicisely. 
He  dkl  not  call  me, — but  yd*. 
He  did  not  say  pride, — but  pride. 

Note  1.  Negation  alone,  not  opposed  to  affirmation,  generally  inclines 
the  voice  to  the  rising  slide,  but  not  aJicaiif,  as  some  respectable  Tearbera 
have  maintained.  "  Thou  shall  not  kill;"  "Thou  shall  not  rteal ;" — 
are  negative  precepts,  in  which  the  falling  slide  must  be  used  ;  and  the 
simple  particle  no,  wilh  ihe  intensive  falling  slide,  is  one  of  the  strung"** 
monosyllables  in  the  language. 

Note  2.  The  reader  should  be  apprised  here,  that  the  falling  slide,  being 
often  connected  with  strong  emphasis,  and  beginning  on  a  high  and  spir- 
ited note,  is  liable  to  be  mistaken,  by  those  little  acquainted  with  the  sub- 
ject, for  the  rising  slide.  If  one  is  in  doubt  which  of  the  two  be  has  em- 
ployed, on  a  particular  word,  let  him  repeat  both  together,  by  forming  a 
question  thus,  "  Did  I  say  gt,  or  so?"  or  a  question  and  answ< 
"Will  you  gd,—  orttdy?  1  shall  go."  \\ill  you  ride,— or  valJc?  I 
shall  riJt."  This  will  give  the  contrary  slides  on  the  some  word. 

But  as  some  may  be  unable  still  to  distinguish  the  falling,  confound- 
ing it,  as  just  mentioned,  wilh  the  risin_'  mf]..-ti,>n,  or,  on  the  other  h;in<l, 
with  (he  cadence ;  1  observe  that  the  difficulty  lies  in  two  things.  One 
is,  that  the  slide  is  not  begun  so  high,  and  ihe  otln -r,  that  it  is  not  carried 
through  so  many  notes,  as  it  ought  to  be.  I  explain  this  by  a  diagram, 
thus: 


It    n  sufficiently  exact  to  say,  that  in  reading  this  proprr 
syllable*   without    slide    may    be   spoken    on   one   key   or    monotone. 
i  lu«  key  go  slides   upwards  to  its  highest  Mite,  and   from  the 

same  high  note  slay  slides  downwards  to  the  key ;  and  x<>  does  the 
SUM,  in  the  answer  to  the  question.  In  the  second  example,  the 
case  is  entirely  similar.  But  the  difficulty  with  the  inexpert  reader 
is,  that  he  strike*  the  downward  slide,  not  above  the  key,  but  on  k, 


INFLECTIONS.  SI 


and  then  slides  downward,  just  as  in  a  cadence.  The  faulty  manner 
may  be  represented  thus  : 

.^ji 
Will  yo  go  to-  or  to-  ,.  I  shall  go  to-  ^ 

X,  V 

The  other  part  of  the  difficulty,  in  distinguishing  the  falling  inflection 
from  the  opposite,  arises  from  its  want  of  sufficient  extent.  Sometimes, 
indeed,  the  voice  is  merely  dropped  to  a  low  note,  without  any  slide  at 
all.  The  best  remedy  is,  to  take  a  sentence  with  some  emphatic  word,  on 
which  the  intensive  falling  slide  is  proper,  and  plfetract  that  slide,  in  a 
drawling  manner,  from  a  high  note  to  a  low  on«t  This  will  make  iu 
distinction  from  the  rising  slide  very  obvious. 

Rising  Inflection. 

RULE  IV.  The  pause  of  suspension,  denoting  that  the 
sense  is  unfinished,  requires  the  rising  inflection. 

This  rule  embraces  several  particulars,  more  especially  ap- 
plying to  sentences  of  the  periodic  structure,  which  consist 
of  several  members,  but  form  no  complete  sense  before  the 
close.  It  is  the  first  principle  of  articulate  language,  that  in 
such  a  case,  the  voice  should  be  kept  suspended,  to  denote 
continuation  of  sense. 

The  following  are  some  of  the  cases  to  which  the  rule  applies. 

1.  Sentences  beginning  with  a  conditional  particle  or  clause ;  as, 

"  If  some  of  the  branches  be  broken  off,  and  thou,  being  a  wild  olive 
tree,  wert  grafted  in  among  them,  and  with  them  partakest  of  the  root 
and  fatness  of  the  olive  tree  ;  boast  not  against  the  branches."  "  A» 
face  answereth  to  face  in  water,  so  the  heart  of  man  to  man." 

2.  The  case  absolute ;  as, 

"  His  father  dying,  and  no  heir  being  left  except  himself,  he  succeeded 
to  the  estate."  "  The  question  having  been  fully  discussed,  and  all  ob- 
jections completely  refuted,  the  decision  was  unanimous." 

3.  The   infinitive  mood  with    its   adjuncts,    used    as   a  nominative 
case ;  as, 

"  To  smile  on  those  whom  we  should  censure,  and  to  countenance 
those  who  are  guilty  of  bad  actions,  is  to  be  guilty  ourselves."  "  To 
be  pure  in  heart,  to  be  pious  and  benevolent,  constitutes  human  hap- 
pinew." 


4.  The  rornlirr*  r.nse  without  strong  emphasis,  when  it  is  a  lespecUU 
mil  to  at (.  nil' in   •  \;.r«-s*t's  no  sense  completed,  and  comes  under  the 
inflection  of  the  suspending  pause ;  as,  - 

;    l>n  thr«-n,  OIK!  fathers, — licark-  •  Is,  Romans,  coun- 

trymen ! — lend  me  your  ears." 

5.  The;*/  mionly  requires  the  same  inflection  at  its  close, 
while  the  rest  of  it  is  often  to  be  spoken  in  the  monotone ;  as, 

/.     ic  v  not,  brethren,  (far  I  apeak  to  them  thai  knmo  tkelaic.)tkat  the 
bnr  kaiJi  dominion  orer  a  man  as  long  as  he  lircth  7" 

An  exception  may  apply  to  the  general  principle  of  this  rule,  whenever 
one  voice  is  to  represent  two  persons,  thus : 

If  a  brother  or  sister  be  naked,  and  destitute  of  daily  food,  and  one  of 
you  say  unto  them,  Depart  in  peace,  be  ye  wanned  and  filled  ;  notwith- 
standing ye  give  them  not  those  things  which  are  needful  to  the  body ; 
what  doth  it  profit"? 

1!'  r<  thn  sense  is  entirely  suspended  to  the  close,  ami  yet  the  clause 
introduced  as  the  language  of  another,  requires  the  fnllin-j  slide. 

Anot'  Son,  resting  on  still  stronger  groand,  eoeon  where  an 

antithetic  rlausr  r  qiiin  s  th.  int.*ii-i\'-  falling  slid.-  <>n  >»ni.-  <-\w(  word, 
to  denote  the  true  meaning  :  as  in  the  following  example, — '-The  man 
who  N  in  th>  dailv  us.-  of  ardent  spirit,  it"  he  docs  not  become  a  drunkard, 
M  in  danger  of  losing  his  health  and  character."  In  this  periodic  sen- 
tence. I  i-i  not  form' d  till  the  close;  and  yet  the  fnllr 

of  the  second  member,  or  th«>  sense  is  subverted ; 

tor  the  rising  slidi  on  drunkard  would  imply  that  his  becoming  such,  is 
the  onlv  way  to  preserve  health  and  character. 

Hi  I.K  V.      Tender  emotion  prm-rally  inclines  the  voice  t-> 

-iidc. 

:    compassion,  and  delicate  affection,  soften  the  soul, 
and  nrp  uttorod  in  words,  invariably  with  corresponding  qual- 

;i  it  expresses  either  aft 
or  d<-Ii  "!•'  li^in^  slid** ;  as, 

"Jesus  saith  ui.1  ry."     "Jesus  saith  unto  him,  Thomas.'1 

"  Sir,  I  "  art  a  proj  irs,  what  murt  I  do  to  b« 

MVC<! 

Tlx  in  pathetic  p<" 

Thus  with  thr  year, 
Seasons  return  ;  but  not  to  me  r< ' 


•  I  us.  thi<  t.  r:n  ..-  !  my  purpose  than  thnt  of  oar  gram- 

marian*.— **mi*'-'- 


INFLECTIONS.  33 


Day,  or  the  sweet  approach  of  cv'n  or  morn, 
Or  sight  of  vernal  bloom,  or  summer's  rose, 
Or  flocks,  or  herds,  or  human  face  divine ; 
But  cloud  instead,  and  ever  during  dark 
Surround  me 

So  in.  the  beautiful  little  poem  of  Cowper,  on  the  receipt 
of  his  mother's  picture  : 

My  mother  !  when  I  learn'd  that  thou  wast  dead, 
Say,  wast  thou  conscious  of  the  tears  I  shed  1 
Hover'd  thy  spirit  o'er  thy  sorrowing  son, 
Wretch  even  then,  life's  journey  just  begun  1 
I  heard  the  bell  toll'd  on  thy  burial  day, 
I  saw  the  hearse,  that  bore  thee  slow  away, 
And,  turning  from  my  nurs'ry  window,  drew 
A  long,  long  sigh,  and  wept  a  last  adieu. 

RULE  VI.  The  rising  slide  is  commonly  used  at  the  last 
pause  but  one  in  the  sentence.  The  reason  is,  that  the  ear 
expects  the  voice  to  fall  when  the  sense  is  finished  ;  and  there- 
fore it  should  rise  for  the  sake  of  variety  and  harmony,  on 
the  pause  that  precedes  the  cadence. — Ex. : 

"  The  minor  longs  to  be  at  age,  then  to  be  a  man  of  business,  then 
to  make  an  estate,  then  to  arrive  at  honors,  then  to  retire."  "  Our 
lives,  (says  Seneca,)  are  spent  either  in  doing  nothing  at  all,  or  in 
doing  nothing  to  the  purpose,  or  in  doing  nothing  that  we  ought  to  do." 

Falling  Inflection. 

So  indistinctly  does  bold  and  strong  passion  express  itself 
by  this  turn  of  voice,  that  just  so  far  as  the  falling  slide  be- 
comes intensive,  it  denotes  emphatic  force.  The  VIII.  IX. 
and  X.  rules  will  illustrate  this  remark. 

RULE  VII.  The  indirect  question,  or  that  which  is  not 
answered  by  yes  or  no,  has  the  falling  inflection ;  and  its  an- 
swer has  the  same.  As, 

What,  Tubero,  did  that  naked  sword  of  yours  mean,  in  the  battle 
of  Pharsalia  1  At  whose  breast  was  its  point  aimed  1  What  was  the 
meaning  of  your  arms,  your  spirit,  your  eyes,  your  hands,  your  ardor 
of  soul? 

2* 


3  I  1XFLLCTI9M. 


Wko  My  tkc  people  that  I  dm  ?  They  answering  laid,  Jok*Uu  Baptist  t 
b*t  torn*  lay  Ettas  t  and  oUun  $ay  that  one  of  UK  old  prdpketi  it  riten 
again. —  Where  is  footing  Uten  ?  His  excluded. —  Wkojirst  tediuxd  tkem 
to  UuUfoul  retoU  ?  TV  infernnl  terp-nt. 

The  want  of  distinction  in  elementary  books,  between  that 
sort  of  question  which  turns  the  voice  upward,  and  that 
which  turns  it  downward,  must  have  been  felt  by  every 
teacher,  even  of  children. 

HfLE  VIII.  The  language  of  authority,  of  surprise,  and 
of  distress,  is  commonly  uttered  with  the  falling  inflection. 

1.  The  imperative  mood,  as  used  to  express  the  commands 
of  a  superior,  denotes  that  energy  of  thought  which  usually 
requires  the  falling  slide ;  as, 

Uzziel !  half  the*e  draw  off,  and  coast  the  south, 
With  Ftrictest  watch ;  these  other,  wheel  the  north. — 
— Ilhuriel  and  Zephon  !  with  winged  speed 
Search  th/ough  this  garden ;  leave  unsearch'd  no  nook. 
Up,  comrades !  up  ! — in  Rokeby's  halls 
-  be  it  said  our  courage  falls. 

2.  Denunciation  and  reprehension,  on  the  same  principle, 
commonly  require  the  falling  inflection  ;  as, 

Woe  unto  you,  Pharisees !     Woe  unto  you,  lawyers !     But  God  said 
unto  him,  thou  fool  ! — ihi*  night  thy  soul  shall  be  required  of  th- 
Jesus  said,  Why  tempt  ye  me,  ye  hypocrites  1     Paul  said  to  Elyroas,  O 
full  of  all  subtlety,  and  all  mischief!     Thou  child  of  the  Ddvil, — thou 
enemy  of  all  righteousness ! 

Hence  ! — home,  you  idle  creatures,  get  you  home. 

You  blocks,  you  stones !    '  You  worse  than  wnseless  things ! 

This  would  be  tame  indeed,  should  we  place  the  un«-m- 
phatic,  rising  slide,  on  these  terms  of  reproach,  thus : 
You  blocks,  you  stones,  you  worse  than  senseless  things ! 

iiiation,  when  it  does  not  express  tender  emotion, 
nor  ask  a  question,  inclines  to  adopt  the  falling  slide. 
r  expresses  itself  in  this  way  ;  as, 

Angels,  and  ministers  of  grace, — defend  us. 
Exclamation,    denoting    surpriss.   or    rrvcrance.   or    distress, — or    a 


INFLECTIONS.  85 


combination  of  these  different  emotions,  generally  adopts  the  falling 
slide.  For  this  reason,  I  suppose  that  Mary,  weeping  at  the  sepulchre, 
when  she  perceived  that  the  person  whom  she  had  mistaken  for  the 
gardener,  was  the  risen  Saviour  himself,  exclaimed  with  the  tone  of 
reverence  and  surprise,  Rabboni!  And  the  same  inflection  probably 
was  used  by  the  leprous  men  when  they  cried  Jesus,  Master!  have  mercy 
on  us;  instead  of  the  colloquial  tone,  Jesus  Master,  which  is  commonly 
used  in  reading  the  passage,  and  which  expresses  nothing  of  the  distress 
and  earnestness  which  prompted  this  cry.  These  examples  are  distin- 
guished from  the  vocative  case,  when  it  merely  calls  to  attention,  or  de- 
notes affection. 

RULE  IX.  Emphatic  succession  of  particulars  requires  the 
falling  slide.  The  reason  is,  that  a  distinctive  utterance  is 
necessary  to  fix  the  attention  on  each  particular  ;  as, 

Charity  suffereth  long,  and  is  kind  ;  charity  envieth  not  ;  charity 
vaunteth  not  itself;  is  not  puffed  up;  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly  ; 
secketh  not  her  own  ;  is  not  easily  prov&ked  ;  thinketh  no  evil.  —  Thrice 
was  I  beaten  with  rods  ;  once  was  I  stoned  ;  thrice  I  suffered  shipwreck  ; 
a  night  and  a  day  have  I  been  in  the  deep. 

In  each  of  these  examples,  all  the  pauses  except  the  last 
but  one,  (for  the  sake  of  harmony,)  require  the  downward 
slide. 

Note  1.  When  the  principle  of  emphatic  series  interferes  with  that  of 
the  suspending  slide,  one  or  the  othej  prevails,  according  to  the  degree 
of  emphasis  ;  as, 

Though  I  have  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and  understand  all  mysteries,  and 
all  ktiow'ledge  ;  and  though  I  have  all  faith,  so  that  I  could  remove  moun- 
tains, and  have  not  charity,  I  am  nothing. 

The  pains  of  getting,  the  fear  of  losing,  and  the  inability  of  enjoying 
his  wealth,  have  made  the  miser  a  mark  of  satire,  in  all  ages.* 

Note  2.  Emphatic  succession  of  particulars  grows  intensive  as  it  goes 
on  ;  that  is,  on  each  succeeding  emphatic  word,  the  slide  has  more  stress, 
and  a  higher  note,  than  on  the  preceding  ;  thus,  — 


I   tell  you,  though  \?    though   all  the  \y>       though    an     angel 

^N 

from     ^sjs     should  declare  the  truth  of  it,  I  could  not  believe  it. 

*  All  rules  of  inflection  as  to  a  series  of  single  wards,  when  unem- 
phatic,  are,  in  my  opinion,  worse  than  useless.  No  rule  of  harmonic 
inflection,  that  is  indepndent  of  sentiment,  can  be  established  with- 


36  IM  I.E.-. 


The  rising  »Mr,  on  the  contrary,  ns  it  oocara  in  an  emphatic  series  of 
direct  question*,  rises  higher  on  each  particular,  at  it  proceeds. 


X.   Emphatic  repetition  requires  the  falling  slide. 
Whatever  inflection  is  given  to  a  word,  in  the  first  instance, 
when  that  word  is  repeated  with  stress,  it  demands  the  fall- 
ing slide.     Thus  in  Julius  Caesar,  Cassius  says: 

You  wrong  me  every  way,  yon  wrung  me,  Brutus. 

The  worrf  wrong  is  slightly  emphatic,  with  the  falling  slide, 
in  the  first  clause  ;  but  in  the  second,  it  requires  a  double  or 
triple  force  of  voice,  with  the  same  slide  on  the  higher  note, 
to  express  the  meaning  strongly.  But  the  principle  of  this 
rule  is  more  apparent  still,  when  the  repeated  word  changes 
its  inflection.  Thus  I  ask  one  at  a  distance,  Are  you  going 
to  Boston  ?  If  he  tells  me  that  he  did  not  hear  my  question, 
I  repeat  it  with  the  other  slide,  Are  you  going  to  Boston  ?* 

KII.K  XI.     The  final  pause  requires  the  falling  slide. 

That  dropping  of  the  voice  which  denotes  the  sense  to  be 
finUlnd,  is  so  commonly  expected  by  the  car,  that  the 
worst  readers  make  a  cadence  of  some  sort,  at  the  close  of 
a  sentence.  In  respect  to  this,  some  general  faults  may 
be  guarded  against,  though  it  is  not  possible  to  tell  in  ab- 
solute terms  what  a  good  cadence  is,  because,  in  diftVn-nt 
circumstances,  it  is  modified  by  different  principles  of  elo- 
cution. The  most  common  fault  in  the  cadence  of  bad 
speakers,  c>  dropping  the  voice  too  uniformly  to  the 


out  too  much  rink  of  nn  artificial  hnbit,  unless  it  be  this  onr,  that  the 
voice  should  rioe  at  the  last  .pause  before  the  cadence ;  and  even  thin  may 
be  superseded  by  emphasis. 

•  In  rollnqtii.il  language.  the  point  I  «m  illustrating  i»  quite  familiar  to 
every  ear.     The  !•  .i<  In  r  r.xlN  n  pupil  by  name  in  tin-  ri-in^  inflection, 
and  not  tiring  heard,  rrpenU  the  rail  in  the  falling.     The  an 
such  a  c.ill.if  it   i-  a   ni'-ri    ri-«|H>n<f  -•  i   doubt,  it 

"     A  quration    '  iriderstood  is  repeated  with  n  louder 

voice  n.  ;•:  of  slide  :  "  Is  this  your  book?     h  lAix  your  boot?" 

'ulJrsn  with  their  first  slcmrnts  of  speech,  make  this  distinction 
psrfcrfly. 


CIRCUMFLEX.  37 


same  note.  The  next  consists  in  dropping  it  too  much. 
The  next,  in  dropping  it  too  far  from  the  end  of  the  sen- 
tence, or  beginning  the  cadence  too  soon ;  and  another  still 
consists  in  that  feeble  and  indistinct  manner  of  closing  sen- 
tences, which  is  common  to  men  unskilled  in  managing  the 
voice. 

We  should  take  care  also  to  mark  the  difference  between  that  down- 
ward turn  of  the  voice  which  occurs  at  the  falling  slide  in  the  middle  of 
a  sentence,  and  that  which  occurs  at  the  close.  The  latter  is  made  on  a 
lower  note,  and  if  emphasis  is  absent,  with  less  spirit  than  the  former ; 
as  "  This  heavenly  benefactor  claims,  not  the  homage  of  our  lips,  but  of 
our  hearts ;  and  who  can  doubt  that  he  is  entitled  to  the  homage  of  our 
hearts."  Here  the  word  hearts  has  the  same  slide  in  the  middle  of  the 
sentence  as  at  the  close.  Though  it  has  a  much  lower  note  in  the  latter 
case  than  in  the  former. 

It  must  be  observed,  too,  that  the  final  pause  does  not  always  require 
a  cadence.  When  the  strong  emphasis  with  the  falling  slide  comes  near 
the  end  of  a  sentence,  it  turns  the  voice  upward  at  the  close  ;  as,  "  If  we 
have  no  regard  to  our  own  character,  we  ought  to  have  some  regard  to 
the  character  of  others."  "  You  were  paid  to  fight  against  Alexander, 
not  to  rail  at  him."  This  is  a  departure  from  a  general  rule  of  elocu- 
tion; but  it  is  only  one  case  among  many,  in  which  emphasis  asserts  ils 
supremacy  over  any  other  principle,  that  interferes  with  its  claims.  In- 
deed, any  one,  who  has  given  but  little  attention  to  this  point,  would  be 
surprised  to  observe  accurately,  how  often  sentenoes  are  closed,  in  con- 
versation, without  any  proper  cadence  ;  the  voice  being  carried  to  a  high 
note,  on  the  last  word,  sometimes  with  the  falling,  and  sometimes  with 
the  rising  slide.  . 

Circumflex. 

RULE  XII.  The  circumflex  occurs  chiefly  where  the  lan- 
guage is  either  hypothetical  or  ironical. 

The  most  common  use  of  it  is  to  express,  indefinitely 
or  conditionally,  some  idea  that  is  contrasted  with  another 
idea  expressed  or  understood,  to  which  the  falling  slide  be- 
longs ;  thus  : — Hume  said  he  would  go  twenty  miles,  (o  hear 
Whitefield  preach.  The  contrast  suggested  by  the  circum- 
flex here  is, — though  he  would  take  no  pains  to  hear  a  common 
preacher. 

You  ask  a  physician  concerning  your  friend  who  is  dangerously  sick, 
and  receive  this  reply, — He  is  belter.  The  circumflex  denotes  only  .1 
partial  doubtful  amendment,  and  implies — But  he.  it  still,  dangerously  sick. 
The  same  turn  of  the  voice  occurs  in  the  following  example,  on  the  word 
importunity. 


88  AOCBNT. 

"  Though  he  will  not  rue  and  give  him,  because  he  is  his  friend  yet 
beeauM  of  his  importunity  he  will  rue  and  give  him  a*  many  as  he 
needeth. 

Thui  circumflex  when  indistinct,  coincides  nearly  with  the  rising  slide  ; 
when  distinct,  it  denotes  qualified  affirmation  instead  of  that  which  is 
t,  as  marked  by  the  falling  slide. 


(    H  AFTER    IV. 
AOCBNT, 

ACCENT  is  a  stress  laid  on  particular  syllables,  to  promote 
harmony  and  distinctness  of  articulation.  The  syllable  on 
which  accent  shall  be  placed,  is  determined  by  custom;  and 
that  without  any  regard  to  the  meaning  of  words,  except  in 
these  few  cases. 

Where  the  same  word  in  form,  has  a  different  sense,  ac- 
cording to  the  seat  of  the  accent ;  as  des'ert,  (a  wilderness,) 
desert',  (merit). — Or  the  accent  may  distinguish  between  the 
same  word  used  as  a  noun  or  an  adjective ;  as  com'pact,  (an 
agreement,)  compact',  (close.)  Or  U  may  distinguish  the 
noun  from  the  verb  thus  :  . 

Abstract,  to  absfrac/',-  ez'port,  to  export'. 

The  seat  of  accent  may  be  transpired  by  emphasis  ;  as, 

He  must  increase,  but  I  must  decrease. 

Thin  corruptible  rnunt  jiut  on  incorruption. 

What  fellowship  h  ith    /.•  ifcousnrs*  with  u ^righteousness  1 

Tlu  accented  syllable  of  a  wnrdualteayt  uttered  wilt  a  t.-ii  DF.H  naif  than 
tke  ml.  When  Ike  syllable  has  the  mini'  injection,  ike  tlide  continues  up- 
ward till  the  word  is'jinithed ;  to  that  when  several  syllables  of  a  word  fat- 
Una  tke  accent,  tkry  rite  la  a  higher  note  than  that  wkick  it  accented ;  and 
when  tke  accented  nillablf  it  tke  last  in  a  word,  it  it  alto  tke  highest.  Hut 
when  tke  accented  tyUable  has  thr  faJl<m.'  slide,  it  is  alirain  struck  with  a 
higher  note  than  any  other  syllable  in  that  word. 

Thus ;— rising  slide. 

Did  he  dare  to  propose  such  intenv? 


EMPHASIS.  39 

Here  the  slide  which  begins  on  ro<r,  continues  to  rise  on  the  three  fol- 
lowing syllables;  but  in  the  question,  Will  you  go  lo-ddy?  the  same 
elide  terminates  with  the  syllable  on  which  it  begins. 

In  the  falling  slide,  thus  : 

The  testimony  was  given  not  by  narrative,  but  by  inter  ^^, 

•^ 


CHAPTER    V. 

EMPHASIS. 

EMPHASIS  is  governed  by  the  laws  of  sentiment,  being  in- 
separably associated  with  thought  and  emotion.  It  is  the 
most  important  principle,  by  which  elocution  is  related  to 
the  operations  of  mind.  Hence  when  it  stands  opposed  to 
the  claims  of  custom  or  of  harmony,  these  always  give  way 
to  its  supremacy. 

Now  I  presume  that  every  one,  who  is  at  all  accustomed 
to  accurate  observation  on  this  subject,  must  be  sensible 
how  very  little  this  grand  principle  is  regarded  in  forming 
our  earliest  habits  of  elocution  ;  and  therefore  how  hopeless 
are  all  efforts  to  correct  what  is  wrong  in  these  habits,  with- 
out a  just  kno  wledg^of^iiphasis .» ,«J^ 

What  then  is  enfphaMj  yLj^^fca^tistmfativwjJ.terance  of 
words,  which  are  especially  significant,  ivith-fsucltifa  degree 
knd  kind  of  stress,  as  conveys  their  meaning  in  the  best  man- 
ner. 

According  to  this  definition,  I  would  include  the  whole 
subject  under  emphatic  stress  and  emphatic  inflection. 

Sect.  1. — Emphatic  Stress. 

This  consists  chiefly  in  the.  loudness  of  the  note,  but  in- 
cludes also  the  time  in  which  important  words  are  uttered. 
A  good  reader  or  speaker,  when  he  utters  a  word  on 


EMPHATIC 


which  the  meaning  of  a  sentence  is  suspended,  spontaneously 
dwells  on  that  word,  according  to  the  intensity  of  its  mean- 
ing. •TtTc  significance  and  weight  which  he  thus  attaches  to 
words  ^MT  are  important,  is  a  very  different  thing  from  the 
abrupt  and  jerking  emphasis,  which  is  often  witnessed  in  a 
bad  delivery. 

It  is  generally  true  that  a  subordinate  rank  belongs  to  par- 
ticles, and  to'  all  those  words  which  merely  express  some  cir- 
cumstance of  a  thought.  And  when  a  word  of  this  sort  is 
raised  abov^  its  relative  importance,  by  an  undue  stress  in 
pronunciation,  we  perceive  a  violence  done  to  other  words  of 
more  significance. 
Thus: 

Show  pity,  Lord,  O  Lord,  forgive, 

Let  a  repenting  rebel  live. 

But  to  show  that  emphasis  attaches  itself  not  to  the  part 
of  speech,  but  to  the  meaning  of  a  word,  let  one  of  these 
little  words  become  important  in  sense,  and  then  it  demands  a 
correspondent  stress  of  voice  ;  as, 

"  Then  said  the  high  priest,  are  the*e  things  26?" 

Again  : 

"  Paul  had  determined  to  sail  by  Ephesus." 

This  sentgfl^afj^B^Bflfari^to  stress  -on  Kplu-sus,  implies 

as  a  common 


2r  place. 

tic   stress  on  by  expresses   tin-  true  b<  -:. 
namely,  that  he  did  not   mean  to  stop  then-,  thus  :   ••  Paul 
had  determined  to  sail  by  Ephesus."         t 

In  the  case  that  follow*  too,  we  tee  how  the  meaning  of  a  sentence 
often  depend*  on  the  manner  in  whirh  «••  utter  one  short  word.  "One 
of  the  servants  of  the  high  prictft.  (being  his  kinsman  whose  ear  I' 
<ut  off)  «aUh,  ilid  not  I  see  thw  in  th*-  unnlrn  with  him  V  Now  if  we 
utter  thin,  as  inofT  readers  d«,  with4  a  stress  on  kinsman,  and  a  sbm 
pause  after  it,  we  make  thr  renb-ncr  tiffin;.  mn  who*- 

Peter  cut  off  was  kinsmnn  to  the  high  priest,  which  wa*   not  the   flV* 
But  a  stress  upon  kit,  makes  this  nnrant,  kinsman  to  another  man,  who 
received  ths  wounJ 


A!!:-OI.I;TI:  i-.MriiAT.iu  STKES.-.  41 

These  illustrations  show  that  the  principle  of  emphatic  stress  is  per- 
fectly simple ;  and  that  it  falls  on  a.  particular  word,  not  chiefly  because 
that  word  belongs  to  one  or  another  class  in  grammar,  but  because,  in 
the  present  case,  it  is  important  in  sense.  To  design  ata  the  words  that 
are  thus  important,  by  the  action  of  the  voice  in  emphasis,  is  just  what 
the  etymological  import  of  this  term  implies,  namely,  to  show,  to  point 
out,  to  make  manifest. 

But  further  to  elucidate  a  subject,  that  has  been  treated  with  much 
obscurity,  emphatic  stress  may  be  distinguished  into  that  which  is  absolute, 
and  that  which  is  antithetic  or  relative. 

Absolute  empliatic  stress. 

Walker,  and  others  who  have  been  implicitly  guided  by 
his  authority,  without  examination,  lay  down  the  broad  posi- 
tion, that  emphasis  always  implies  antithesis  ;  and  that  it  can 
never  be  proper  to  give  emphatic  stress  to  a  word,  unless  it 
stands  opposed  to  something  in  sense. 

The  theory  which  supposes  this,  is  too  narrow  to  corres- 
pond with  the  philosophy  of  elocution.  Emphasis  is  the  soul 
of  delivery,  because  it  is  the  most  discriminating  mark  of 
emotion.  Contrast  is  among  the  sources  of  emotion :  and  the 
kind  of  contrast  really  intended  by  Walker  and  others,  namely 
that  of  affirmation  and  negation,  it  re  peculiarly  the  province 
of  emphasis  to  designate.  But  this  is  not  the  whole  of  its 
province.  There  are  other  sources,  besides  antithetic  rela- 
tion, from  which  the  mind  receives  strong  and  vivid  impres- 
sions, which  it  is  the  office  of  vocal  language,  to  express. 
Thus  exclamation,  apostrophe,  and  bold^figures  in  general, 
denoting  high  emotion,  demand  a  correspondent  force  in 
pronunciation  ;  and  that  too  in  many  cases  where  the  em- 
phatic force  laid  on  a  word  is  absolute,  because  the  thought 
expressed  by  that  word  is  forcible  of  itself,  without  any  aid 
from  contrast. 

Thus : 

Up!  comrades — up! — 

VVpe  unto  you,  Pharisees'. — 

Hence!—  home  I  you  idle  creatures. 

Angels !  and  ministers  of  grace, — defend  us 


ANTITHETIC    OK    RKI.ATIVE    BTRESi. 


Antithetic  or  relative  strest. 

The  principle  on  which  the  stress  depends  in  this 
will  be  evident  from  a  few  example*. 

Study,  not  so  much  to  skew  knowledge  as  to  aeqtiirr  it 

He  that  cannot  bear  a  jr«t,  should  not  mair  one. 

It  is  not  so  easy  to  hide  one's  faults,  us  to  mend  them. 

We  think  less  of  the  injuries  we  do,  than  of  those  we  infer 

It  is  not  so  difficult  to  talk  well,  as  to  lire  well 

When  the  antithetic  terms  in  a  sentence  are  both  ex- 
pressed, the  mind  instantly  perceives  the  opposition  between 
them,  and  the  voice  as  readily  marks  the  proper  distinction. 
But  when  only  one  of  these  terms  is  expressed,  the  other  is 
to  be  made  out  by  reflection ;  and  in  proportion  to  tho  ease 
or  difficulty  with  which  this  antithetic  relation  is  perceived 
by  the  mind,  the  emphatic  sense  is  more  or  less  vivid.  On 
this  principle,  when  a  word  expresse»  one  part  of  a  contrast, 
while  it  only  suggest*  the  other,  that  word  must  be  spoken 
with  a  force  adapted  to  its  peculiar  office  ;  and  this  is  the 
very  case  where  the  power  of  emphasis  rises  to  its  highest 
point.  Exam] 

I  that  denied  thee  gold,  will  gire  my  heart. 

Here  the  antithetic  terms  fold  nnd  heart,  being  both  expressed,  a  com- 
mon emphatic  strew  on  these,  make*  the  sense  obvious.  But  in  the  fol- 
lowing case,  only  one  part  of  the  antithesis  is  expressed.  Brutus  says, 

You  wrong' d  yourylf,  to  write  in  such  a  case. 

The  strong  emphams  on  yoitrstlf,  implies  that  Cassius  thought  himself 
injured  by  some  other  person.     Accordingly  we  see  in  the  preceding  sen- 
tence his  charge  against  Brutus, — "  you  have  wrong'd  me." 
Again,  Brutus  says  to  Cassius, 

You  have  done  that  you  should  be  sorry  for. 

With  n  ulight  stress  upon  inrry.  this  implies  that  hr  had  done  wrong,  bat 
suggests  nothing  of  the  antithetic  meaning,  denoted  by  the  true  empha- 
sis; thus, 

You  harr  done  that  you  shovld  be  sorry  for. 

This  emphssis  on  the  former  word  implies,  "  Not  only  are  you  liable 
to  do  wrong,  hut  you  far*  done  so  already  ;"  on  thr  latter  it  implies, 
"  though  TOO  are  not  sorry,  you  aught  to  be  sorry  "  This  wa«  precisely 
the  meaning  of  Brutus,  for  he  MpBld  to  a  threat  of  Ca*sius,  "  I  may  do 
that  I  shall  be  sorry  for." 


EMPHATIC    INFLECTION.  43 

I . 

Sect.  2. — Emphatic  Inflection. 

Thus  far  our  view  of  emphasis  has  been  limited  to  the 
degree  of  stress  with  which  emphatic  words  are  spoken. 
But  this  is  only  a  part  of  the  subject.  The  kind  of  stress 
is  not  less  important  to  the  sense,  than  the  degree.  Let 
any  one  glance  his  eye  over  the  examples  of  the  foregoing 
pages,  and  he  will  see  that  strong  emphasis  demands,  in  all 
cases,  an  appropriate  inflection ;  and  that  to  change  this  in- 
flection perverts  the  sense.  This  will  be  perceived  at  once 
in  the  following  case :  "  We  must  take  heed  not  only  to 
what  we  say,  but  to  what  we  do"  By  changing  this  slide, 
and  laying  the  falling  on  say  and  the  rising  on  do,  every  ear 
must  feel  that  violence  is  done  to  the  meaning.  So  in  this 
case, 

The  fault,  dear  Brutus,  is  not  in  our  stars ; 
But  in  ourselves,  that  we  are  underlings ; 

the  rising  inflection  or  circumflex  on  stars  and  the  falling 
inflection  on  ourselves  is  so  indispensable,  that  no  reader  of 
the  least  taste  would  mistake  the  one  for  the  other.  But 
the  principle  which  I  wish  to  illustrate,  will  be  more  ob- 
vious, by  recurring  to  the  case  recently  mentioned,  in  which 
one  part  of  a  contrast  is  expressed,  and  the  other  only  sug- 
gested ;  so  that  the  whole  meaning  of  a  sentence  depends 
on  the  emphatic  inflection  given  to  a  single  word.  A  strong 
example  of  this  has  already  been  given  in  the  perversion  of 
sense  which  would  arise  from  wrong  inflection  on  the  word 
drunkard ;  see  the  close  of  RULE  IV.,  p.  32.  Another  ex- 
ample we  have  in  Paul's  exhortation  to  Christian  servants, 
"And  they  that  have  believing  masters,  let  them  not  de- 
spise them,  because  they  are  brethren  ;  but  rather  do  them 
service,"  <fec.  The  meaning  is,  their  being  fellow  Chris- 
tians, is  no  reason  why  they  should  be  disobeyed  as  masters  ; 
and  this  the  rising  slide  on  brethren  expresses.  The  fall- 
ing slide  would  express  a  very  different  sense,  namely,  that 


KMHISIH       l\. 


this  Christian  relation  is  a  suflirient  reason  why  the  servants 
should  not  despise  their  masters.  Again,  a  distinguished 
writer  says  of  some  conceited  men ;  ««  They  have  not  pa- 
tience to  read  a  book,  till  they  thoroughly  understand  it." 
His  meaning  is,  they  never  read  it  so  as  to  understand  ;  and 
this  the  rising  slide  expresses.  But  the  other  slid*  would 
imply,  that  they  have  patience  to  read  it,  after  they  under- 
ttaiid  it. 

One  more  question  remains  to  be  answered ;   how 
we  know  when  an  emphatic  word   demands  the  rising  and 
when  the  falling  inflection? 

If  the  reader  has  studied  the  RULES  OF  INFLECTION 
which  begin  at  p.  29,  he  can  seldom  be  at  a  loss  to  an- 
this  question  for  himself.  According  to  established  laws  of 
voice,  he  will  know  what  inflection  to  give  emphatic  words, 
when  connected  by  the  disjunctive  or  ; — as,  "  Will  you  ride, 
or  walk  ?"  So  when  the  direct  question  and  answer  occur  ; 
— as,  "  Arm'd,  say  you  ?  Arm'rf,  my  lord." — So  when  ne- 
gation is  opposed  to  affirmation  ;  as,  "  He  will  not  come  to- 
day, but  to-morrow." 

Besides  these  general  remarks,  it  may  be  added,  that  the 
voice,  instinctively  accompanies  emphatic,  jtotitivc ajJ't 
with, the  falling  slide,  and  the  antithetic  negation   with  the 
rising. 

But  there  i*  a  large  class  of  nentences,  in  which  qualified  affirma- 
.  ml*    tlic     risin<:    turn  often  where     .in    antithotii 

oliji  .  •  -   cxpn-SHi-c!  It    i-    nut    llii'    *ini|i|i: 

ri-in^'   uliilf.   1'vit  tin-   circumflex,   \\liii-h  il«  si^iiMt.  *  t!>; 
RU.     The  two.  •   the 

•ame,   thnt    it   i  !  wlii.-h   is   us, d  ;    \vhil.    m  otln-r  "•;>•-• 

•  •fTii-r  of  tli--  rirciiiiiflcx  i»  «o  pwulinr  n»  to  mnk<-  ii  <|iiil"    : 
lo  an  ear  of  any  di«crimini>ti"ii       I  tl»i« 

(M-iinn    iHtwrrn  the   flint    and  wr«>fi«!   n  'rf» 

orrurs.    in    tli«-   fullnv  J'>lm.    wn«    it 

and  they  s:>  :"ill  "">•  ft- 

he   w 

in.-   rmphnflu,    \ 

relation    i*    exprewed    or    •uneoled,   U,   Uie    t' 

affirmation,   or    enunciation   «>f    n     tboant     •  -_rv :    thr    riming 

rrmuct  negation,  or  qualified  and  cttuMifinl  amrm«tioo.     la 


EMPHATIC    INFLECTION.  45 

the  latter  case  the  antithetic  object,  if  there  is  one,  may  be  suggested 
ironically,  or  hypothetically,  or  comparatively ;  thus, — 

Ironically : 

They  tell  us  to  be  moderate ;  but  they,  they  are  to  revel  in  profusion. 
HypotheticdUy ; 

If  men  see  our  faults,  they  will  talk  among  themselves,  though  we  re- 
fuse to  let  them  talk  to  us. 

Comparatively ; . 

The  beggar  was  blind  as  well  as  lame. 
He  is  more  knave  than  fool. 

In  such  a  connection  of  two  correlate  words,  whether  in  contrast  or 
comparison,  the  most  prominent  of  the  two  in  sense,  that  in  which  the 
essence  of  the  thought  lies,  commonly  has  the  strong,  falling  emphasis ; 
and  that  which  expresses  something  subordinate  or  circumstantial,  has 
the  rising.  The  same  rising  or  circumflex  emphasis  prevails  where  the 
thought  is  conditional,  or  something  is  implied  or  insinuated^,  rather  than 
strongly  expressed. 

The  amount  is,  that  generally  the  weaker  emphasis,  where  there  is 
tender,  or  conditional,  or  partial  enunciation  of  thought,  requires  the 
voice  to  rise  :  while  the  strong  emphasis,  where  the  thought  is  bold,  and 
the  language  positive,  adopts  the  falling  slide,  except  where  some  coun- 
teracting principle  occurs,  as  in  the  interrogative  inflection.  In  all  such 
cases,  explanation  becomes  obscurity,  if  carried  out  of  its  proper  limits. 
Beyond  these,  I  can  no  more  tell  why  sorrow  or  supplication  incline  the 
voice  to  the  rising  slide,  while  indignation  or  command  incline  it  to  the 
falling,  that  I  can  tell  why  one  emotion  flashes  in  the  eye,  and  another 
vents  itself  in  tears.  Nor  is  it  reasonable  to  demand  such  explanations 
on  this  subject,  as  are  not  expected  on  any  other.  The  logician  rests  in 
his  consciousness  and  his  experience  as  the  basis  of  argument ;  and 
philosophy  no  more  requires  or  allows  us  to  push  our  inquiries  beyond 
first  principles  or  facts,  in  elocution,  than  in  logic. 


Emphatit  Clause. 

It  will  be  readily  perceived  that  the  stress  proper  to  be 
laid  on  any  single  word,  depends  much  on  the  comparative 
stress  with  which  other  words  in  the  same  sentence  are  pro- 
nounced. A  whisper,  if  it  is  soft  or  strong,  according  to 
sense,  may  be  as  truly  discriminating  as  the  loudest  tones. 
The  voice  should  be  disciplined  to  this  distinction,  in  order  to 
avoid  the  common  fault,  which  confounds  vociferation  with 
emphatic  expression. 


K.MPIIA  Tic    ARTICULATION. 


Bat  there  are  cases  in  which  more  than  common  stress  be- 
longs to  several  words  in  succession,  forming  an  emphatic 
clause.  In  some  cases  of  this  sort,  the  several  syllables  have 
nearly  equal  stress  ;  thus  : 


Heaven  and  earth  will  witness, 


IP — ROME — MD«T— FILL, — that  we  are  innocent 
Again; 

Could  we  but  climb  where  Mooes  stood 

And  view  the  landscape  o'er, 
Not  Jordan's  stream,  nor  DEATH'S — COLD — FLOOD 

Should  fright  us  from  the  shore. 

In  uttering  the  emphatic  clause,  in  these  cases,  the  voice 
drops  its  pitch,  and  proceeds  nearly  in  a  grave,  deliberate 
monotone. 

In  other  cases,  such  a  clause  is  to  be  distinguished  from 
the  rest  of  the  sentence,  by  a  general  increase  of  force ;  and 
yet  its  words  retain  a  relative  difference  among  themselves,  in 
quantity,  stress,  and  inflection.  One  example  may  make  this 
last  remark  still  plainer.  Suppose  Paul  to  have  said  merely, 
" I  came  not  to* baptize,  but  to  preach"  The  contrast  ex- 
pressed, limits  the  emphasis  to  two  words.  But  take  the 
whole  sentence,  as  it  is  in  Paul's  language,  "  I  came  not  to 
baptize,  but  to  preach  the,  GOSPEL  ;"  and  you  have  a  contrast 
between  an  emphatic  word,  and  an  emphatic  clause.  And 
though  the  sense  is  just  as  before,  you  must  change  the  stress 
in  this  clause  from  preach  to  gospel,  or  you  utter  nonsense. 
If  you  retain  the  stress  on  preach,  the  paraphrase  is,  "  I  came 
not  to  baptize  the  gospel,  but  to  preach  the  gospel." 

Double  Emphasis. 

This  is  always  grounded  on  antithetic  relation,  expressed  in 
pairs  of  contrasted  objects.  It  will  be  sufficiently  illustrated 
by  a  very  few  examples. 

"  The  WN*f  arc  slave*  to  wttwttjr, 


MODULATION.  47 


"  And  why  beholdest  thou  the  mote  that  is  in  thy  brother's  eye,  but  con- 
tiderest  not  the  beam  that  is  in  thine  own  eye  1" 

There  is  but  one  remark,  which  is  important  to  be  made  in  this  case. 
In  attempting  to  give  the  utmost  significance  to  each  of  the  terms,  stand- 
ing in  close  succession,  we  are  in  danger  of  diminishing  the  amount  of 
meaning,  expressed  by  the  whole.  The  only  rule  that  can  be  adopted 
is,  so  to  adjust  the  stress  and  inflection  of  voice,  on  the  different  terms, 
as  shall  most  clearly,  and  yet  most  agreeably  convey  the  sense  of  the 
entire  passage.  There  is  still  another  kind  of  sentences,  in  which  there 
occurs  what  I  would  call  CUMULATIVE  EMPHASIS.  This  consists  of  a 
complex  thought,  made  up  of  particulars,  expressed  in  a  succession  of 
emphatic  words.  A  striking  example  of  this  we  have  in  Paul's  indig- 
nant reply  to  the  message  from  the  magistrates,  that  he  and  his  asso- 
ciates, unjustly  imprisoned,  might  be  released,  and  go  quietly  away. 
"  But  Paul  said,  they  have  beaten  us,  openly,  uncondemned,  being  Romans, 
and  have  cast  us  into  prison ;  and  now  do  they  thrust  us  out  privily  ? 
nay,  verily ;  but  let  them  come  themselves,  and  fetch  us  out." 

Here  there  is  no  difficulty  from  that  antithetic  mixing  of  terms  just 
now  alluded  to. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

MODULATION. 

• 

THIS  includes  a  number  of  distinct  topics,  which  may  per- 
haps with  sufficient  exactness  be  brought  together  in  one 
chapter.  % 

Sect.  I.— -Faults  of  Modulation. 

1.  Monotony. — The  monotone,  employed  with  skill,  in  pro- 
nouncing a  simile  or  occasionally  an  elevated  or  forcible 
thought,  may  have  great  rhetorical  effect;  just  as  other 
movements  of  the  voice,  are  felt  to  be  proper,  when  they 
are  prompted  by  genius  and  emotion.  But  the  thing  I 
mean  to  condemn,  is  that  dull  repetition  of  sounds,  on  the 
same  pitch,  and  with  the  same  quantity,  which  the  hearers 
ascribe  to  want  of  spirit  in  the  speaker.  Want  of  variety  is 
fatal  to  vivacity  and  interest  in  delivery,  on  the  same  prin- 
ciple that  it  is  so  in  all  other  cases.  In  music,  a  succession 


M»IM    \.\ 


of  perfect  conc'»nl>,  -specially  on  the  same  note,  would  be 
intolerable. 

«/</.     An    unskilful    reader,    perhaps 

resolved  to  avoid  monotony,  may  think  nothing  more  is 
necessary,  than  to  employ  the  greatest  possible  number  of 
notes;  and  thus  his  chief  aim  is  to  leap  from  on.-  extreme 
to  another  of  his  voice.  In  a  short  time  this  attempt  at 
variety  becomes  a  regular  return  of  similar  notes,  at  stu 
intervals. 

Another  defect,  of  the  same  sort,  arises  from  an  attempt  to 
produce  variety  by  a  frequent  and  arbitrary  change  of  stress. 
But  here  too  the  only  advantage  gained  is,  that  we  exchange 
an  absolute  for  a  relative  sameness  ;  for  the  favorite  stress 
returns  periodically  without  regard  to  sense. 

There  is  still  another  kind  of  this  uniform  variety,  which 
is  extremely  common.  It  consists  in  the  habit  of  striking  « 
sentence  at  the  beginning,  with  a  high  and  full  voice,  which,  be- 
comcs  gradually  weaker  and  lower,  as  the  sentence  proceeds,  es-  , 
pecially  if  it  has  much  length,  till  it  is  closed  perhaps  with 
one  quarter  of  the  impulse  with  which  it  commenced.  Then 
the  speaker,  at  the  beginning  of  a  new  sentence,  inflates  his 
lungs,  and  pours  out  a  full  volume  of  sound,  for  d  few  words, 
sliding  downwards  again,  to  a  feeble  close. 

Sect.  2. — Remedies. 

1.    The  most  indispensable  attainment,  towards  the  cure 
of  bad  habits  in  managing  the  voice,  is  the  spirit  of  empha- 
sis.     Suppose  a   student  of  elocution  to  have  a  scholastic 
tone,  or  some  other  of  the  faults   iiinitiov 
him  emphasis,  and   you  have   taken   the  most  •:  y  to 

ve  the  defect.     It  is  difficult  to  give  a  particular  i! 
tnition  of  my  meaning,  except  by  the   living  voii-c.  ;  but  the 
experiment  is  worthy  of  a  trial,  to  see  if  the  faulty  ma: 
cannot  be  represented  to  the  eye.     Read  the  following  pas- 


MODULATION.  49 


sage  from  the  Spectator  ;*  recollecting  at  the  beginning  of 
each  sentence,  to  strike  the  words  in  the  largest  type,  with  a 
high  and  full  voice,  gradually  sinking  away  in  pitch  and 
quantity,  as  the  type  diminishes,  to  the  close. 

EXAMPLE. 

OUR  SIGHT  IS  THE  MOST  PERFECT,  AND  MOST  DE- 
LIGHTFUL, OF  ALL  OUR  SENSES.  IT  FILLS  THE  MIND  WITH 
THE  LARGEST  VARIETY  OF  IDEAS,  CONVERSES  WITH 

ITS  OBJECTS  AT  THE  GREATEST  DISTANCE,  AND  CONTINUES 
THE  LONGEST  IN  >ACTION,  WITHOUT  BEING  TIRED  OR  SATIATED 
WITH  ITS  PROPER  ENJOYMENTS.  THE  SENSE  OF  FEELING 
CAN  INDEED  GIVE  US  A  NOTION  OF  EXTENSION,  SHAPE, 

AND   ALL   OTHER  IDEAS   THAT*ENTER   AT   THE   EYE,   EXCEPT   COLORS. 

* 

AT  THE  SAME  TIME,  IT  is  VERY  MUCH  CONFINED  IN   rrg 

OPERATIONS,  TO  THE  NUMBER,  BULK,  AND  DISTANCE  OF  ITS 
PARTICULAR  OBJECTS. 

If  you  succeed  in  understanding  the  above  illustration,  then 
vary  the  trial  on  the  same  example,  with  a  view  to  another 
fault,  the  periodic  stress  and  tone.  Take  care  to  speak  the 
words,  printed  in  small  capitals,  with  a  note  sensibly  higher 
and  stronger  than  the  rest,  dropping  the  voice  immediately 
after  these  elevated  words,  into  an  undulating  tone,  on  the 
following  syllables, — thus  : 

Our  sight  is  the  MOST  perfect,  and  MOST  delightful,  of  all  our  sense*. 
It  fills  the  mind  with  the  largest  VARIETY  of  ideas,  converses  with  its  object 
at  the  GREATEST  distance,  and  continues  the  longest  in  action,  without 
being  TIRED  or  satiated  with  its  proper  enjoyments.  The  sense  of  feeling 
can  indeed  GIVE  us  a  notion  of  extension,  shape,  and  all  other  ideas  that 
ENTER  at  the  eye,  except  colors.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  very  much  CON- 

*  No.  411. 
3 


60  MODULATION. 


FINED  in  its  operation*,  to  the  number,  BCLK,  and  distance  of  its  partfeo- 
Ur  object*.* 

It  is  necessary  now  to  give  this  same  passage  once  more, 
BO  dWngVMhing  the  chief  words,  by  the  Italic  character,  as 
to  exhibit  the  true  pronunciation. 


Our  sight  is  the  most  perfect,  and  most  delightful,  of  all  our 
It  fills  the  mind  with  the  largest  variety  of  ideas ;  converses  with  its  ob- 
jects at  the  greatest  distance  •,  and  continues  the  longest  in  action  with- 
out being  tired  or  satiated  with  its  proper  enjoyments.  The  sense  of 
feeling  can  indeed  give  us  a  notion  of  extension,  shape,  and  all  other 
ideas  that  enter  at  the  eye,  except  colors.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  very 
much  confined  in  its  operations,  to  the  number,  bulk,  and  distance  of  it* 
particular  objects. 

But  as  no  word  in  the  foregoing  passage,  is  strongly  emphatir.  my 
meaning  may  be  more  evident  from  an  example  or  two,  where  a  discrim- 
inating stress  on  a  single  word,  determines  the  manner  in  which  the  fol 
lowing  words  are  to  be  spoken. 

Take  this  couplet  from  Pope,  and  read,  it  first  with  the  metrical  accent 
and  tone ;  thus, 

What  the  weak  head,  with  strongest  bias  rules, 
Is  pride,  the  never  failing  vice  of  fool*. 

Now  let  it  be  observed  that  in  these  lines  there  is  really  but  one  em- 
phatic word,  n.imrly,  jrridc.  If  we  mark  this  with  the  strong  emphasis, 
and  the  falling  infWtinn.  the  following  words  will  of  necessity  be 
spoken  as  they  should  l>«v  dropping  a  note  or  two  below  the  key  note  of 
the  sentcnce,f  and  proceeding  nearly  on  a  monotone  to  the  end ; — 
thus, 

What  the  weak  head,  with  strongest  bias  rules, 

• 

'  the  never  failing  vice  of  fools. 

•  Walker's  ear,  though  in  cases  of  emphatic  inflection,  very  discrim- 
inating, seems  in  other  ra»e«  to  have  been  perverted  by  hi*  i!. 
knrmirnif  infleriion,  as  appear*  from  his  manner  of  pronouncing  the 
following  couplet,  which   nearly  coincide*  with  the  tone   I   am  con- 
demning: 

A  brave  man  struggling  in  the  storms  of  fts», 
And  greatly  falling,  with  a  falling  stole. 

f  By  key  noU,  I  mean  the  prnailini;  note,  that  which  TOO  bear  when 
•  man  rr.-ult  nloud  in  another  room,  while  you  cannot  distinguish  any 
word*  that  he  utters. 


PITCH    OF    VOICE.  51 


Another  example  may  help  to  render  this  more  intelligible. 

Qifli 
Must  we  the  author  of  the  public  cdlam   ^ 


Or  must  we  des  &. . 
<£• 

the  author  of  the  pxiblic  calamities. 

In  pronouncing  these  examples,  if  the  proper  sound  is  given  to  the 
emphatic  words,  all  the  rest  must  be  spoken  essentially  as  here  described. 
It  follows  that  the  most  direct  means  of  curing  artificial  tones,  is  to  ac- 
quire a  correct  emphasis.  But, — 

2.  In  order  to  this,  another  attainment  seems  indispen- 
sable, namely,  some  good  degree  of  discrimination  as  to  vocal 
tones  and  inflections. 

Some,  who  can  imitate  a  sound,  immediately  after  hearing  it  from  an- 
other voice  ^  suppose  this  to  be  the  only  way  in  which  it  can  be  done.  But 
let  a  thousand  persons,  who  understand  the  English  language,  repeat 
the*  familiar  question,  "Do  you  expect  to  go,  or  sidy?" — And  will  not 
every  one  of  the  thousand  give  the  same  turn  of  voice  on  the  words  in 
Italics  1  Where  is  the  difficulty  then  of  placing  such  a  mark  on  these 
turns  of  voice,  that  they  may  be  transferred  to  any  other  word  1  This 
simple  principle  suggested  to  Walker  his  notation  of  sounds  for  the  eye  ; 
and  incomplete  as  it  is,  something  of  the  kind  is  so  necessary  to  the  stu- 
dent of  elocution,  that,  without  it,  the  aid  of  a  living  teacher  cannot  sup- 
ply the  defect.  And  in  most  cases,  nothing  is  wanting  to  derive  advan- 
tage from  such  a  theory  but  a  little  patience  and  perseverance  in  its  ap- 
plication. 


SECT.  3. — Pitch  of  Voice. 

This  is  a  relative  modification  of  voice ;  by  which  we 
mean  that  high  or  low  note,  which  prevails  in  speaking, 
and  which  has  a  governing  influence  upon  the  whole  scale 
of  notes  employed.  In  every  one's  voice,  this  governing 
note  varies  with  circumstances,  but  it  is  sufficiently  exact 
to  consider  it  as  threefold ;  the  upper  pitch,  used  in  call- 
ing to  one  at  a  distance  ;  the  middle,  used  in  conversation  ; 
and  the  lower,  used  in  cadence,  or  in  a  grave,  emphatic  un- 
der key.  Exertion  of  voice  on  the  first,  exposes  it  to  break ; 
*nd  on  the  last,  renders  articulation  thick  and  difficult,  and 


52  UL  AMITY. 

leaves  no  room  for  compass  below  the  pitch.  The  middle 
key,  or  that  which  we  spontaneously  adopt  in  earnest  con- 
versation, allows  the  greatest  variety  and  energy  in  speak- 
ing. 

Whether  this  is  high  or  low,  compared  with  that  of  another  man,  is 
not  essential,  provided  it  be  not  in  extreme.  Among  the  first  secular 
orator*  of  Britain,  some  have  spoken  on  the  grave,  bass  key ;  while  Pitt'* 
voice,  it  is  said,  was  a  full  tenor,  and  Pox's  a  treble. 

The  voice  that  is  on  the  bass-key,  if  clear  and  well-toned,  has  some  ad- 
vantages in  point  of  dignity.  But  a  high  tone,  uttered  with  the  same 
effort  of  lungs,  is  more  audible  than  a  low  one.  Without  referring  to 
other  proofs  of  this,  the  fart  now  mentioned  is  sufficient,  that  we  spon- 
taneously raise  our  key,  in  culling  to  one  at  a  distance  ;  for  the  simple 
reason,  that  we  instinctively  know  he  will  be  more  likely  to  hear  us, 
in  a  high  note  than  a  low  one.  So  universal  is  this  instinct,  that  we 
may  observe  it  in  very  little  children,  and  even  in  the  call  and  response 
of  the  parent  bird  and  her  young,  and  in  most  brute  animals  that  have 
voice. 

The  influence  of  emotion  on  the  voice,  is  also  among  the  pliilosopbical 
cmiMcli-rntions  pertaining  to  this  subject.  A  man  under  strong  intellec- 
tual r  xrii>-mrnt.  walks  with  a  firmer  and  quicker  step  than  when  he  is 
cool ;  and  the  same  exciicnx  nt  which  braces  the  muscles,  and  gives 
energy  to  the  movements  of  the  body,  has  a  correspondent  effect  on  the 
movements  of  the  voice.  Earnestness  in  common  conversation  assumes 
it  tiijii.T  note,  as  it  proceeds,  though  the  person  addressed  is  at  no  greater 
distance  than  before. 

A  practical  corollary  from  these  tngffltinnt  is,  that  the  speaker  or  reader 
should  avoid  a  Muk  pticA,  at  the  beginning,  lest  he  rise,  with  the  increase 
of  interest,  to  painful  and  unmanageable  elevation. 

The  proper  means  of  avoiding  extremes,  is  to  learn  the  distinction  be- 
tween farce  and  elevation  ;  and  to  acquire  the  power  of  swelling  the  voic« 
on  a  low  note.  This  introduces  our  next  topic  of  consideration. 


SECT.  4. —  Quantity. 

This  term  I  use,  not  in  the  restricted  sense  of  grammarians 
and  prosodists,  but  as  including  rotundity  tuid  Julltiest  of  tone, 
loudness,  and  time. 

Rotundity  and  Fullne**.  —  As  to  inflection,  emphasis, 
and  the  varied  adaptation  of  tones  to  sentiment,  the  only 
laws  of  voice,  in  deliberate  speaking  and  reading,  that  can 
be  considered  as  natural,  are  derived  from  conversation. 
But  in  another  respect,  the  habits  acquired  from  this  source, 
occasion  tome  of  the  most  stubborn  difficulties,  which  the 


QUANTITY.  53 


learner  in  elocution  has  to  surmount.  For,  to  what  purpose 
has  he  been  accustomed  to  use  his  voice  ?  Almost  exclusively 
in  a  hurried  utterance  of  a  sentence  or  two  at  once,  to  an  indi- 
vidual, or  a  small  number  of  persons,  so  near  him,  or  so  well 
acquainted  with  what  he  is  saying,  as  to  understand  him, 
though  it  be  but  half  spoken.  Thus,  by  using  his  voice  only 
in  conversation,  (excepting  occasionally,  when  he  has  opened 
his  organs  to  a  fuller  note,  in  speaking  a  word  or  two,  to  some 
one  at  a  distance,)  he  has  become  confirmed  in  a  rapid,  indis- 
tinct, feeble  enunciation  of  the  chief  elementary  sounds.  But 
when  he  comes  to  train  his  organs,  in  exercises  of  elocution ; 
that  is,  when  he  comes  to  read  or  speak  any  thing,  so  that  it 
may  be  audible  and  interesting  to  a  considerable  number  of 
hearers,  a  new  task  is  imposed  on  his  vocal  powers.  Cost 
what  it  may,  he  must  exchange  the  clipping,  slurring,  jerking 
sounds  of  fireside-talk,  for  a  clear,  open  articulation,  or  he 
cannot  speak  nor  read  well.  Dignity  and  force  in  delivery, 
depend  much  on  the  power  of  filling,  and  swelling,  and  pro- 
tracting an  open  vowel  sound  ;  but  no  one  attains  this  power, 
without  pains  and  care ;  and  without  a  process  different  from 
any  thing  that  is  ordinarily  acquired  in  conversation. 

It  requires  very  little  skill  in  sounds,  to  perceive  that  a  in 
hat,  is  shorter  than  a  in  hate  ;  that  is,  in  the  former  case,  the 
organs  pass  quickly  over  the  vowel  to  the  consonant, — in  the 
latter  there  is  more  continuance  on  the  vowel.  Now  this  con- 
tinuance may  be  protracted,  more  or  less,  at  pleasure  ;  for  it 
requires  only  that  we  begin  the  sound  of  a  in  hate,  and  keep- 
ing the  organs  in  exactly  the  same  position,  let  the  stream  of 

sound  proceed  ;  thus, — ha  .  .  .  .  te,  ha te. 

Just  so,  if  you  bring  the  organs  to  the  proper  position,  and 
begin  the  sound  of  a  in  hat,  you  may  protract  it  through  the 
whole  stream  of  breath,  if  you  please,  before  the  t  is  spoken, 
— ha  ....%.£. 

But  as  every  experiment  of  this  kind  implies  a  longer  note 


on  the  vowel  sound,  and  tends  almost  of  course  to  a  louder 
and  hiyhrr  note,  it  will  lx-  tatter  illustrated  in  connection  with 
the  following  articles. 

Loudness.  —  In  theory,  perhaps,  every  one  can  easily  und«>r- 
stand,  that  a  sound  may  be  either  loud  or  soft,  on  the  same 
note.  The  only  difference,  for  example,  betwixt  the  sound 
produced  by  a  heavy  stroke,  and  a  gentle  one,  on  the  same 
bell,  is  in  the  quantity  or  momentum.  This  distinction  as  ap- 
plied to  music,  is  perfectly  familiar  to  all  acquainted  with  that 
art.  As  applied  to  elocution,  however,  it  is  not  so  easily 
made  ;  for  it  is  a  common  thing  for  speakers  to  confound  high 
sounds  with  loud,  and  low  with  snft,  Hene«  we  often  hear 
it  remarked  of  one,  that  he  speaks  in  a  low  voice,  when  the 
meaning  is,  a  feeble  one  ;  and  perhaps  if  he  were  told  that  he 
is  not  loud  enough,  he  would  instantly  raise  his  key,  instead 
of  merely  increasing  his  quantity  on  the  same  note. 

If  any  one,  who  has  given  no  attention  to  this  point,  thinks  it  too 
easy  to  demand  attmtion,  he  may  be  better  satisfied  by  a  single  exper- 
iment. Let  him  take  this  line  of  Shakspeare  — 

O,  you  hard  hearts,  you  cruel  men  of  Rome  ! 

and  read  it  first  in  ;i  voico  barely  audible.  Then  let  him  read  it  again 
and  again,  on  the  same  pitch,  doubling  his  quantity  or  impulse  of  sound. 
at  each  r»-|><  -tition.  and  he  will  find  that  it  p  ijuirrs  ureat  care  and  man-' 
agement  to  do  this  without  raising  hi?  voice  to  a  higher  note. 

•   depend*  on  the  possession  of  perfect  vocal  ergons, 
and  on  the  due  exercise  of  these. 


The  hmfs,  trachea,  larynx,  glntti*,  and  epiglottis,  are  organs  of  mend, 
but  not  of  other*,  nnm«-K 

lips,  if  which  are  also  organs  of  artiml. 

these  organ*  are  all  JUMM!.  the  voice  of  a  speaker  has  sometimes  been 
trained  to  such  power  as  to  be  distinctly  heard  by  twenty  thousand 
people. 

To    strengthen    tin-    voice   by  exercise,  obscnre   these 
(\\   U  ,',.  >,.  >..  r   \i>ii   use  your  M>i<->-   .M   common  occasions,  use  as  mucA 

T-,.;0     ,M    ;",,•         '        •  '     ,  '         ,.'l      /.'<„,/    ,>!,«,  ,i      n<      /J      f!,l'nl     i     •     r,v. 

(3)  Avoid  nl.  >^«,  especially  in  eases  of  kaanenat. 

(4)  Avoid  habits  "  'it.  that 
cramp  the  vital  functions  ;  stimulating  food  tr  drinla,  in  caanect 
spea>ing  ;  and  sudden  exposure  U>  coltl  atrt  when  the  lungs  are  kcated, 

Time.  —  The  reader  i*  denired  here   tn  turn    back   to  the 


QUANTITY.  55 


remarks  which  I  made,  p.  53,  on  the  words  hat  and  hate, 
exemplifying  the  protraction  of  sound  in  a  long  vowel. 
That  he  may  the  better  understand  my  meaning,  let  him 
suppose  himself  listening  to  a  military  officer,  at  the  head  of 
a  brigade,  giving  the  word  of  command,  march.  The  only 
way  in  which  he  can  possibly  utter  this  word,  so  as  to  be 
heard  by  several  thousand  men,  is  so  to  manage  the  only 
vowel  in  it,  as  to  expend  upon  it  the  full  power  of  his  voice. 
To  do  this,  he  must  not  clip  off  the  a,  as  he  might  in  con- 
versation, but  must  strike  it  on  that  key  note  where  his 
voice  has  most  strength,  and  then  protract  this  broad,  open 
sound,  perhaps  for  two  seconds,  before  he  touches  the  con- 
sonants which  follow  ;  thus, — MA RCH.  The  case 

is  just  the  same  with  the  still  broader  vowel  sound,  in  the 
word  halt,  as  uttered  in  military  command. 

That  there  is  no  impossibility  in  acquiring  this  power  of 
protracting  and  swelling  any  open  sound,  is  evident  from  the 
fact,  that  it  is  constantly  done  in  music,  when  a  pointed  sem- 
ibreve  holds  the  voice  to  one  continuous  note,  perhaps  for 
three  seconds. 

But  as  discipline  of  the  voice  on  unmeaning,  elementary 
sounds,  seems  an  arbitrary,  and  somewhat  forbidding  exer- 
cise, I  shall  set  down  a  few  brief  examples,  in  which  senti- 
ment and  emotion  demand  the  above  distinctions  to  be  made, 
as  to  fullness,  loudness,  and  time.  These  are  intended  as 
mere  specimens,  from  which  the  reader  will  easily  understand 
how  to  select  others  of  similar  character,  from  the  EXERCISES, 
under  different  heads,  especially  Transition.  These  it  will 
also  be  observed  are  taken  from  cases  of  exclamation,  or 
other  strong  emotion,  and  addressed  for  the  most  part  to 
persons  supposed  to  be  at  a  distance,  requiring  a  full,  loud 
note,  on  the  emphatic  words. 

He  woke  to  hear  his  sentry's  shriek, 

To  ARMS  ! — they  come !  the  GREEK  !— the  GREEK  ! 


">(5  eo.MPAss   01    voiur. 


-Farewell,  happy  field*, 


Where  joy  forever  dwells.     HAIL,  horrors ! — HAIL, 
Infernal  world  I 

He  shook  the  fragment  of  his  blade, 

And  shouted  Victory  1 

CHARGE  !  Chester,  CHARGE  !  6x,  Stanley,  6n  ! 

Zophiel, in  mid  nir,  aloud  thus  cried, 

ARM,  warriors!  ARM,  for  FIOHT. 

Satan was  heard  commanding  loud  ; 

VANGUARD  ! to  right  and  left  the  front  unfold.* 

But  the  reader  must  now  be  reminded,  that  while  it  is  often 
indispensable  to  prolong,  and  fill  out  the  sound  of  a  word, 
under  strong  emphasis,  it  would  be  preposterous  to  speak 
common  words  in  this  manner. 

No  variety  of  tones  could  produce  the  thrilling  effects  of  music  if  every 
note  were  a  semibreve.  So  in  elocution,  if  every  word  and  syllable 
were  uttered  with  the  same  length,  the  uniformity  would  be  as  intoler- 
able as  the  worst  monotony. 

The  easy  flow  of  delivery,  requires  that  particles  and  subordinate  syl- 
lables, should  be  touched  as  lightly  as  is  consistent  with  di-m 
while  both  sentiment  and  harmony  demand,  that  the  voice  should  throw 
an  increase  of  quantity  upon  important  words  by  resting  on  thrin.  or  by 
swell  and  protraction  of  sound,  or  both.  He  whose  voice  habitually 
prolongs  short  syllables,  and  such  words  as  and,  from,  to,  the,  &c.,  must 
be  a  heavy  speaker. 

But  time  in  elocution,  has  a  larger  application  than  that  which  re- 
specU  words  and  clauses,  I  mean  that  which  respects  the  general  rate 
of  ili  livery.  In  this  case,  it  is  not  practicable,  as  in  music,  nor  perhaps 
desirable,  to  establish  a  fixed  standard,  to  which  every  re.ider  or  sneaker 
shall  conform.  The  habits  of  different  men  may  differ  considerably  in 
rate  of  uttterance,  without  beinjr  ch.-irgedble  with  limit.  Hut  I  refer 
rnthrr  to  the  difference  which  cm<itii>M  will  prcxluce,  in  the  rate  of  the 
same  individual.  I  have  said  before,  that  those  passions  which  qui< -k-  -\ 
or  retard  a  man's  step  in  walking,  will  produce  a  simil.ir  effect  on  his 
voice  in  speaking.  Narration  ;  uid  flowing  .  \<  hemencr,  firm 

and  accelerated  ;  anger  and  joy,  rapid.     \\  uthority.  sub- 

limity, awe, — assume  deeper  tones,  and  a  slow 

inply  we  sometimes  hear  a  good  r.  :ul.  r  or  speaker,  when  there  is  some 
•QOOea  ttarn  of  thought,  check  him*-  If  in  the  full  current  of  nttrrnncr, 
nmi  (jive  indescribable  power  to  a  sentence,  or  part  of  a  sentence,  by 
dropping  his  voice,  and  adopting  a  slow,  full  pronunciation. 

Sect.  5. — Compau  of  Voice. 
In   this  I  refer  to  the  range  of  notes,  above  and  below 

•  See  ArrrtOKX  for  more  examples,  under  this  bead. 


COMPASS    OF    VOICE.  57 

the  governing  or  natural  key,  which  are  required  by  a  spir- 
ited and  diversified  delivery. 

Sometimes  from  inveterate  habit,  and  sometimes  from 
incapacity  of  the  organs,  the  voice  has  a  strong,  clear  bot- 
tom, without  any  compass  upwards.  In  other  cases,  it  has 
a  good  top,  but  no  compass  below  its  key.  Extreme  in- 
stances to  the  contrary  there  may  be,  but  commonly,  I  have 
no  doubt  that  when  a  speaker  uses  only  a  note  or  two,  above 
and  below  the  key,  it  arises  from  habit,  and  not  from  organic 
defect. 

Directions  on  this  subject  would  be  comparatively  easy,  if  all  who 
need  them  were  acquainted  with  music.  But  experience  taught  me  long 
ago,  that  no  theories  in  elocution,  which  pre-suppose  learners  in  this  art 
to  possess  skill  in  musical  sounds,  can  be  generally  useful.  Multitudes 
must  be  taught  reading  and  speaking,  who  cannot  accurately  distinguish 
musical  intervals  of  notes.  Those  who  can  do  it,  will  find  great  facility 
in  cultivating  quantity  and  compass  of  voice.  To  such  I  recommend  a 
course  of  experiments  on  different  vowel  sounds,  such  as  occur  in  the  ex- 
amples of  emphatic  words  under  the  last  head.  Thus,  begin  with  hail,  and 
speak  it  rather  feebly  on  the  lowest  note  of  your  voice.  Then  repeat  it, 
a  note  higher,  and  so  on  through  the  octave,  but  still  in  a  small  voice. 
Then  do  the  same  tking  with  increase  of- strength,  as  you  raise  the  note, 
that  is,  growing  louder  as  you  proceed.  Finally,  do  the  same  thing  with 
a  view  to  prolongation  of  sound,  uttering  the  word  hail,  with  one  beat, 
then  with  two,  three,  &c.  If  you  attempt  to  combine  it  in  one  exper- 
iment, compass,  Itmdness,  and  length  of  sound,  the  trial  of  voice  will  be 
severe,  and  should  be  continued  but  a  short  time  at  once. 

When  this  experiment  is  finished,  it  may  be  renewed  on  other  words, 
as  arm,  charge,  hope ;  the  ultimate  aim  being  in  each  case,  to  accustom 
the  voice  to  notes  high  and  low,  laud  and  long. 

When  the  student  has  ascertained  his  compass,  by  such  experiments  on 
single  words,  he  may  then  practice  reading  passages  of  some  length,  on 
that  part  of  his  voice  which  he  especially  wishes  to  improve;  taking  care, 
in  this  more  protracted  exercise,  not  to  pitch  on  the  extreme  note  of  his 
voice,  either  way,  so  far  as  to  preclude  some  variety  above  or  below,  to 
correspond  with  natural  delivery. 

I  would  advise  him  next  to  read  passages  where  the  sentiment  and 
style  are  specially  adapted  to  the  purpose  he  has  in  view.  If  he  wishes 
to  cultivate  the  bottom  of  his  voice,  he  may  take  passages  of  poetry,  in 
which  the  simile  occurs,  a  figure  that  generally  requires  a  low  and 
equable  movement  of  voice. 

If  he  wishes  to  increase  his  compass  on  the  higher  notes,  let  him 
choose  passages  in  which  spirited  emotion  prevails ;  especially  such  as 
have  a  succession  of  interrogative  sentences.  Instead  of  giving  exam- 
ples here,  I  refer  the  reader  to  EXERCISES  on  Compass  of  Voice. 

3* 


58  RHETORICAL    FAUIL. 


Sect.  6.  —  Rh> 

Rhetorical  punctuation  has  a  few  marks  of  its  own,  as  the 
point  of  interrogation,  and  of  admiration,  the  parenthesis, 
and  the  hyphen,  all  of  which  denote  no  grammatical  relation, 
and  have  no  established  length.  And  there  is  no  good  reason, 
if  such  marks  are  used  at  all,  why  they  should  not  be  ren- 
dered more  adequate  to  their  purpose. 

The  interrogative  mark,  for  example,  is  used  to  denote, 
not  length  of  pause,  but  appropriate  modi6cation  of  voice,  at 
the  end  of  a  question.  But  it  happens  that  this  one  mark, 
as  now  used,  represents  two  things,  that  are  exactly  contrary 
to  each  other.  When  the  child  is  taught,  as  he  still 
many  schools,  always  to  raise  his  voice  in  finishing  a  ques- 
tion, he  finds  it  easy  to  do  so  in  a  ca<e  like  this,  —  "  Will  you 
go  to-day  /"  —  "  Hebrews?"  But  when  he  comes  to 

the  irulirc  -f  <|iie.-tii'ii.  not  an>\v.-n-d  by  yes  or  no,  his  inMim-t, 
as  I  have  said  before,  rebels  ngain-t  the  rule,  and  he  spon- 
taneously reads  with  the  falling  slid«',  "  H7/y  are  you  silent  f 
do  you  ]>revaricatc  ?"  Now,  in  this  latter  case,  if  the 
marks  of  interrogation  were  inverted,  (^)  when  its  office 
is  to  turn  the  voice  downward,  it  would  be  discriminating,  and 
significant  of  its  design. 

Supposing  the  student  to  be  already  familiar  with  the  com- 
mon doctrine  of  punctuation,  it  is  not  my  design  to  discuss  it 
here  ;  nor  ev.-n  to  dwell  upon  the  distinction  between  gram- 
matical and  rhetorical  pau--s.     All  that  is  necessan 
remark  distinctly,  that  visible  punctuation  cannot  be  re 

•  guide  to  quantity,  any  more  than   to  injl<  • 
Often  the  voice  must  rest,  where  no  pause  is  allowed  ii; 
mar;  especially  does  this  happen,  when  the  speaker  would  fix 
attention  on  a  si  •  1,  that  stai  .inin:i- 

tive  to  a  verb.     As, 

Prosperity  gains  friend*,  tulrersilv  trie*  them. 

Some  place  the  bli»«  in  action,  somt  in  cn«e  ; 
it  p!*n»uj-r  ':nrnt  the««. 


RHETORICAL    PAUSE.  59 

Here  the  words  in  Italic  take  no  visible  pause  after  them, 
without  violence  to  grammatical  relation.  But  the  ear  de- 
mands a  pause  after  each  of  these  words,  which  no  good 
reader  will  fail  to  observe. 

The  same  principle  extends  to  the  length  of  pauses.  The 
.,  comma,  when  it  simply  marks  grammatical  relation,  is  very 
short,  as,  "  He  took  with  him  Peter,  and  James,  and  John, 
his  disciples."  But  when  the  comma  is  used  in  language  of 
emotion,  though  it  is  the  same  pause  to  the  eye,  it  may  sus- 
pend the  voice  much  longer  than  in  the  former  case ;  as  in 
the  solemn  and  deliberate  call  to  attention  ; — "  Men,  brethren, 
and  fathers,  hearken."* 

This  leads  me  to  the  chief  point,  which  I  had  in  view  under 
this  head,  the  emphatic  pause.  It  occurs  sometimes  before, 
but  commonly  after  a  striking  thought  is  uttered,  which  the 
speaker  thus  presents  to  his  hearers,  as  worthy  to  command 
assent,  and  be  fixed  in  the  memory,  by  a  moment  of  uninter- 
rupted reflection. 

There  is  still  another  pause,  so  important  in  delivery,  as  to 
deserve  a  brief  notice  ;  I  mean  that  with  which  a  good  speaker 
or  reader  marks  the  close  of  a  paragraph,  or  division  of  a  dis- 
course. When  he  has  finished  one  topic,  he  will  enter  on  a 
new  one,  with  a  more  familiar  tone  of  voice,  and  after  such  a 
pause,  as  prepares  the  hearers  to  accompany  him  with  re- 
newed satisfaction. 

When  the  voice  has  outrun  itself,  and  reached  too  high 


*  The  rhetorical  pause  is  as  appropriate  in  music  as  in  elocution.  In 
this  respect  a  skillful  composer  always  conforms  to  sentiment,  in  a  set 
piece.  In  metrical  psalmody,  though  this  adaptation  cannot  be  made  by 
the  writer  of  the  tune,  it  ought  to  he  made  in  some  good  degree,  by  the 
performers.  Instead  of  a  tame  subserviency  to  arbitrary  quantity,  they 
may  often,  with  powerful  effect,  insert  or  omit  a  pause,  as  sentiment 
demands.  I  have  scarcely  ever  felt  the  influence  of  music  more,  than  in 
one  or  two  cases  where  the  stanzas,  being  highly  rhetorical,  were  di- 
vided only  by  a  comma,  and  the  choir  spontaneously  rushed  over  the 
musical  pause  at  the  end  of  the  tune,  and  began  it  anew,  from  the  im- 
pulse of  emotion.  See  example,  Watts.  Book  I.,  Hymn  3,  6,  and  7 — 8 
and  9  stanzas. 


a  pitch,  one  of  these  paragraph-rests  affords  the  best  oppor- 
tunity to  resume  the  proper  1 

Sect.  7. —  7Y« 

By  this.  I  mean  those  sudden  chancres  of  voice  which  often 
occur  in  delivery. 

To  designate  these  changes,  besides  the  rhetorical  marks 
already  employed  to  denote  inflections,  it  will  be  necessary 
to  adopt  several  new  ones  ;  and  the  following  may  answer 
the  purpose ;  signifying  that  the  voice  is  to  be  modified,  in 
reading  what  follows  the  marks  respectively,  thus  : — 

(°  )high.  (  ••  )sluw. 

( °°  )  high  and  loud.          ( = )  quick. 
(  0  )  low.  ( —  )  plaintive. 

(00)  low  and  loud.  (  ||  )  rhetorical  pause. 

(<)  increase. 

Jn  respect  to  these  marks,  except  the  last,  I  observe  that, 
when  one  of  them  occurs,  it  must  be  left  to  the  rentier's  taste 
to  determine  how  fur  its  inflence  extends  in  what  follows. 
In  ivsp'-et  to  this  mark  (  ••  ),  it  may  be  used  to  signify  a  con- 
siderable protraction  of  sound  on  that  syllable,  which  pre- 
cedes it,  and  then  it  will  he  inserted  in  the  course  of  the 
line,  without  brackets  ;  As, 

Heaven  and  earth  will  witness, 


•IF.  ••  Mf8T-.  F.U.L  --that we  are  innocent. 

When  tli>  irk  is  designed  to  signify  that  n  jxixsage 

is  t-i  !.»•  uttert-d  with  a  si  we  ruff,  it  will  be  inserted  tluis  (  ••  ), 
where  tin-  passage  begins, — the  extent  of  its  influence 
being  left  to  the  reader's  taste;  or  it  may  l>e  (-.unbilled 
with  another  mark,  thus  (jj);  which  would  signify  f<»r. 
and  simp,  ntj  (—)  would  h'njh  and  </»/>£.  or  (  ?  )  Iji^li  ;md 
plain* 


EXPRESSION.  61 


EXAMPLES. 

(  Q  )  And  I  saw  the  dead,  small  and  great,  stand  before  God  ;  and  the 
books  were  opened. 

Gabriel  to  his  next  in  power  thus  spake : 

(°°)  Uzziel !  II  half  these  draw  off,  and  coast  the  south, 
With  strictest  watch  ; — these  other,  II  wheel  the  north. 

(  •• )  He  scarce  had  ceas'd,  when  the  superior  fiend 

Was  moving  tow'rd  the  shore  ; 

He  call'd  so  loud  that  all  the  hollow  deep 

Of  hell  ••  resounded.     (°°)  Princes, — Potentates, 

WARRIORS  !  II  the  flower  of  heaven,  once  yours,  now  lost, 

If  such  astonishment  as  this  can  seize 

Eternal  spirits. 

In  the  following  example,  we  see  Satan  lamenting  his  loss 
of  heaven,  and  then  in  the  dignity  of  a  fell  despair,  invoking 
the  infernal  world.  In  reading  this,  when  the  apostrophe 
changes,  the  voice  should  drop  from  the  tones  of  lamenta- 
tion, which  are  high  and  soft,  to  those  which  are  deep  and 
strong,  on  the  words,  "  Hail,  horrors,"  &c. 

(°)  Is  this  the  region,  this  the  soil,  the  clime, 
Said  then  the  lost  archangel,  this  the  seat, 
That  we  must  change  for  heaven  1     This  mournful  gloom ! 

For  that  celestial  light  ? 

Farewell,  happy  fields, 

Where  joy  forever  dwells.    (00)  HAiL,  horrors .'  HAIL, 
Infernal  world!    And  thou,  ••  profoundest  hell, 
Receive  thy  new  possessor ! 

Sect.  8. — Expression. 

This  term  I  use,  in  rather  a  limited  sense,  to  denote  the 
proper  influence  of  reverential  and  pathetic  sentiment  on 
the  voice. 

There  is  a  modification  of  voice,  which  accompanies 
awakened  sensibility  of  soul,  that  is  more  easily  felt  than  de- 
scribed ;  and  this  constitutes  the  unction  of  delivery.  With- 
out this,  thoughts  that  should  impress,  attract,  or  soothe  the 
mind,  often  become  repulsive. 


6*2  REPRESENTATION. 


The  fact  cannot  have  escaped  common  observation,  that 
sorrow,  and  its  kindred  pa^imis,  \vhf>n  carried  to  a  high  pitch, 
suspend  the  voice  entirely.  In  a  lower  degree,  they  give  it 
a  slender  and  tremulous  utterance.  Thus  Aaron,  when  in- 
formed that  his  two  sons  were  smitten  dead,  by  a  stroke  of 
divine  vengeace,  "  held  his  peace."  The  emotions  of  his 
heart  were  too  deep  to  find  utterance  in  words.  The  highest 
passion  of  this  sort,  is  expressed  by  silence  ;  and  when  so 
far  moderated,  as  to  admit  of  words,  it  speaks  only  in  abrupt 
fragments  of  sentences.  Hence  it  is,  that  all  artificial  imita- 
tion, in  this  case,  is  commonly  so  unlike  the  reality.  It  leads 
to  metaphors,  to  amplification  and  embellishment,  in  lan- 
guage, and  to  either  vociferation  or  whining  in  utterance. 
Whereas  the  real  passion  intended  to  be  imitated,  if  it  speaks 
at  all,  speaks  without  ornament,  in  few  words,  and  in  tones 
that  are  a  perfect  contrast  to  those  of  declamation.  This  dis- 
tinction arises  from  those  laws  of  the  human  mind.  In-  which 
internal  emotion  is  connected  with  its  external  signs. 

The  heart,  thftt  is  bursting  with  grief,  feds  the  sympathy  that  speak* 
in  a  silent grasp  of  the  hand,  i  •.  i_"'"tle  tunes  of  voice:  while 

it  i»  shocked  nt  thf  cold  .  ••,  in  that  utters  itsi-lf  in  many  words, 

firmly  and  formally  pronounced. 

'     Passion  has  its  own  appropriat*  ami  this,  so  far  as  the 

voice  is  concerned,  is  whnt  I  n.  fsnon.      That  thin  may  be  cul- 

tivated by  the  efforts  of  art,  to  some  extent,  in  evident  from  the  skill 
whi'-h  acton  have  sometimes  attained,  in  dramntii-  exhibition;  a  skill  to 
wliidi  one  of  the  fraternity  alluded  in  hi*  remark  to  a  dignitary  of  the 
church,  the  cutting  severity  of  wlii<-h  consist*  in  the  /ru/A  it  contains  ; 
•  ak  of  ll.-tions  ait  if  they  were  realities;  you  speak  of  realitir* 
a*  if  they  wen-  fictions." 

The  fact,  however,  is,  that  thr  indescribable  power  communicated  to 

by  a  delicate  s  (X'cially  a  Christian  ue.iifci^ 

•  vond  the  reach  of  art  to  in. 

Sect.    9. — Rlulori-nl    /fiuliyitr. 

personates  two  individ- 
uals or  more.  It  s«-.  *sary  to  dwell  a  little  <>n  this 
branch  of  modulation,  which  has  scarcely  been  noticed  by 
writers  on  oratory  K\  must  have  obv»rv<»d  hew 


RHETORICAL    DIALOGUE.  63 

much  more  interetting  is  an  exhibition  of  men,  as  living 
agents,  than  of  things  in  abstract.  Now  when  the  orator 
introduces  another  man  as  speaking,  he  either  informs  us 
•what  that  man  said,  in  the  third  person,  or  presents  him  to 
us  as  spoken  to,  in  the  second  person,  and  as  speaking  him- 
self, in  the  first. 

A  thousand  examples  are  at  hand,  to  show  the  difference 
between  telling  us  what  was  said  by  another  man,  and  intro- 
ducing that  man  to  speak  to  us  himself.  "  Jesus  told  Peter 
that  he  should  deny  him  thrice,"  is  narrative.  "Jesus 
said,  Peter,  thou  shalt  deny  me  thrice,"  is  representation. 
The  difference  between  these  two  modes  of  communication 
it  is  the  province  of  taste  to  feel,  but  of  criticism  to  explain. 
Let  us  then  analyze  a  simple  thought,  as  expressed  in  these 
two  forms :  "  Jesus  inquired  of  Simon,  the  son  of  Jonas, 
whether  he  loved  him."  "  Jesus  said,  Simon,  son  of  Jonas, 
lovest  thou  me  ?"  The  difference  in  point  of  vivacity  is  in- 
stantly perceived,  but  in  what  does  this  difference  consist  ? 
In  two  things.  The  first  manner  throws  verbs  into  past  time, 
and  pronouns  into  the  third  person,  producing,  in  the  lat- 
ter especially,  an  indefiniteness  of  grammatical  relation,  which 
is  unfriendly  to  the  clearness  and  vivacity  of  language.  At 
the  same  time,  the  energy  arising  from  the  vocative  case, 
from  the  figure  of  tense,  and  of  interrogation,  is  sacrificed. 
As  a  principle  of  composition,  though  commonly  overlooked, 
this  goes  far  to  explain  the  difference  between  the  tame  and 
the  vivid  in  style. 

But  the  same  difference  is  still  more  striking,  when  ana- 
lyzed by  the  principles  of  delivery.  Transform  an  animated 
question  into  mere  statement  of  the  fact,  that  such  a  ques- 
tion was  asked,  and  all  the  intonations  of  voice  are  changed, 
so  that  you  do  not  seem  to  hear  a  real  person  speaking,  but 
are  only  told  that  he  did  speak.  This  change  in  expression 
of  voice  will  be  apparent  in  repeating  the  two  forms  of  the 
example  last  quoted. 


THE    READING    OP    POETRY. 


The  r-  «d»T  will  ^tercfive,  that  the  principle  whiofe  I  here  aim  to  illus- 
trate, though  it  belong*  primarily  t..  th>    philosophy   »f  style,  has  a  very 
,  v  ilrjmrtment  of  dairrry. 

The  man  who  !«••  I-  (!.•  n  »i  true  eloquence,  will  find  some 

of  hi*  happiest  rcsour.-.  s  in  thu  kind  of  rrprr^  He  can  break 

through  the  trammel*  of  a  tame,  inanimate  address.     He  can  ask  ques- 
tion*, and  answer  tti.  in  :  ran   pcntonate  an  nrru-'-r  and  a  respondent ; 
ran  suppose  himself  accused  or  interrogated,  ami  <:ivr  hi«  replies.     He 
can  call  up  the  absent  or  the  dead,  and  make  them  speak  through    his 
lips.     The  skill  of  representing  two  or  more   , 
management  of  language  and  voice,  is  properly  en  I 
lone.     It  was  thus  that  the  great  orators  of  antiquity,  and  thus  that 
('hrysostom  and  Massillon  helJ  their  hearers  in 


Sect.   1C.—  The  Reading  of  Poetry. 

The  genius  of  verse  requires  that  it  be  pronounced  with 
a  fuller  swell  of  the  open  vowels,  and  in  a  manner  more  me- 
lodious and  flowing  than  prose.  As  the  peculiar  charms  of 
poetry  consist  very  much  in  delicacy  of  sentiment,  and  beauty 
of  language,  it  would  be  absurd  to  read  it  without  regard  to 
these  characteristics.  But  on  the  other  hand,  to  preset 
metrical  flow  of  versification,  and  yet  not  impair  the  sense, 
is  no  easy  attainment.  The  following  general  principles  may 
be  of  use  to  the  student. 

1.  In  proportion  as  the  sentiment   of  a  passage   is  ele- 
vated, inspiring  emotions  of  .dignity  or  reverence,  tin 
has  less  variety  of  inflection,  and  is  more  inclined  to  the 
monotone. 

•j.  When  the  sentiment  of  a  passage  is  delicate  and  gen- 
tle, especially  when  it  is  plaintive,  it  inclines  the  voice  to  the 
rising  inflection;  and  for  this  reason,  p<  }uin-s 

llu:  rising  inflection  than  pn 

:;.  '1'ii.-  ri<//>tn  <>f  rmphtui*  must  be  rtspected  in  poetry. 
i  he  language  of  a  passage  Is  strong  Mid  discriminating; 
iiiaily  descriptive,  or  collixjuiul, — the  same   modifica- 
tions of  voice  arc  required  as  in  prose.     The  fmpkatic  itrrst 
and  i*flection,  that  must  be  iJi/mwW,  in  prose,  to  express  a 
thought  forcibly,  are  equally  necessary  in  poetry. 


THE    READING    OF    POETRY.  65 

As, 

Say  first,  of  God  above,  or  man  below, 
What  can  we  reason,  but  from  what  we  know  ? 

Is  the  great  chain,  that  draws  all  to  agree, 
And  drawn  supports,  upheld  by  God  or  tfiee  ? 

But  sometimes  virtue  starves,  while  vice  is  fed : 
What  then  ? — is  the  reward  of  virtue  bread  ? 

4.  The  metrical  accent  of  poetry  is  subordinate  to  sense, 
and  to  established  usage  in  pronunciation.  That  is  a  child- 
ish conformity  to  poetic  measure,  which  we  sometimes  hear, 
as  marked  in  the  following  examples  : 

False  eloquence,  like  Ike  prismatic  glass, 
Its  gaudy  colors  spreads  on  every  place. 
Their  praise  is  still,  the  style  is  excellent ; 
The  sense  they  humbly  take  upon  content. 

Where  the  metrical  accent  would  do  violence  to  every  ear  of  any  re- 
finement, the  best  way  of  obviating  the  difficulty,  is  to  give  both  the  me- 
trical and  the  customary  accent ;  at  least  so  far,  that  neither  shall  be  very 
conspicuous;  thus— 

Our  supreme  foe,  in  time  may  much  relent.         / cf 
Encamp  their  legions,  or  with  obscure  wing — 

I  think  of  only  two  exceptions  to  these  remarks  on  accent.  The  first 
is,  where  a  distinguished  poet  has  purposely  violated  harmony,  to  make 
the  harshness  of  nis  line  correspond  with  that  of  the  thought. 

As, 

On  a  sudden  open  fly, 

With  impetuous  recoil,  and  jarring  sound, 
The  infernal  doors ;  and  on  their  hinges  grate, 
Harsh  thunder. 

The  other  is  where  a  poet  of  the  same  order,  without  any  apparent 
reason,  has  so  deranged  the  customary  accent,  that,  to  restore  it  in  read- 
ing, would  be  a  violation  of  euphony  not  to  be  endured ;  thus — 

With  glory  attributed  to  Ahe  high 
Creator. 


Only  to  shine,  yet  scarce  to  contribute > 


5.  The  pauses  of  verse  should  be  so  managed,  if  pos- 
sible, as  most  fully  to  exhibit  the  sense,  without  sacrificing 
the  harmony  of  the  composition.  No  good  reader  can  fail 


THE    KK  \l.l\<;    OF    POETBY. 


to  observe  the  ccxurat  pause,  occurring  after  the  fourth  syl- 

laMe,  in  tin-si-  tin  wing  lines — 

••n»  in  the  tun  li  refreshes  in  the  breeze, 
Glows  in  the  start  II  and  bloMoms  in  the  tree*. 

Yet  no  good  reader  would  introduce  the  same  pause  from 
regard  to  melody,  where  the  sense-  utterly  forbids  it,  as  in 
this  line — 

I  sit,  with  sail  II  civility  I  read. 

There  is  another  poetical  pause,  occurring  at  the  end  of 
the  line.  In  blank  verse,  even  when  the  sense  of  one  line 
runs  closely  into  the  next,  the  reader  may  generally,  not  al- 
ways, mark  the  end  of  the  line,  by  a  proper  protraction  and 
suspension  of  voice,  on  the  closing  syllable, — as  in  the  fol- 
lowing notation : 


Thus  with  the  year 


Seasons  return,  but  not  to  me  returns 
Day  II  or  the  sweet  approach  of  even  or  Ihorn. 
YVnd  over  them  triumphant  Death  his  dart 
Shook  I!  but  delay'd  to  strike. 

"  The  affectation,"  says  Walker,  "  which  most  writers  of  blank  verse 

have  of  extending  thr  sense  1»  y.>m!  the  linr,  is  followed  l>y  a   sin 

D  in  ill'1  printer,  who  will  often  omit  a  pause  at  thr  rnd  of  a  line 
in  vcrsr.  when  he  would  have  inserted  one  in  prosr  ;  and  this  affectation 
is  still  carried  farther  by  tin:  reader,  who  will  run  the  sense  of  one  line 
into  another,  when;  iln-n-  i-  the  1<  a.st  opportunity  fur  doing  it,  in  order  to 
show  that  he  is  too  sagacious,  to  suppose  that  there  is  any  conclusion  in 
the  sense,  because  the  line  com  -lades." 

In  regard  to  rhyme,  there  c;i  :  -nhl  that   it  should 

be  so  read,  as  to  make  the  end  of  tin-  line  quiti-  pfn-cptihl'- 
t"  tin-  '\\ivr  th«-  correspondent    smuid  <>f  thr   final 

nvllabl«'N  in  wliirh  rhyme  consists,  would  be  entirely  lost. 

1  'In-  vowels  e  and  o  when  apostrophized,  in  poetry, 
should  be  preserved  in  pronunciation,  lint  they  should  be 
spoken  in  a  manner  so  -  ted,  as  easily  to 

coalesce  with  \  liable. — As, 

Hut  of  thn  two,  lew dang'nxu  is  th'  oflenoe. 
Who  durs*  defy  th'  rtmni|iotrnt  to  arms. 


GESTURE,  67 

CHAPTER    VII. 

GESTURE. 

THOUGH  the  chief  object  of  this  book,  is  to  regulate  the 
voice,  in  reading  and  speaking,  a  few  remarks  on  gesture,  may 
be  useful  to  those  members  of  academies  and  higher  schools, 
who  wish  to  acquire  proper  habits  in  exercises  of  declamation. 
These  remarks  I  shall  introduce,  with  a  very  brief  view  of 
some  faults,  not  uncommon,  as  to  management  of  countenance 
and  attitude,  in  a  speaker. 

The  eye  is  the  only  part  of  the  face,  that  it  falls  within  my 
design  to  notice  here,  both  because  this  is  the  chief  seat  of 
expression,  and  because  its  significance  is  especially  liable  to 
be  frustrated  by  mismanagement.  The  intercourse  of  soul, 
between  speaker  and  hearers,  is  carried  on  more  unequivo- 
cally through  the  eye,  than  in  any  other  way.  But  if  he 
neglects  to  look  at  them,  and  they  in  return  neglect,  (as  they 
commonly  will,)  to  look  at  him ;  the  mutual  reaction  of  feel- 
ing through  the  countenance  is  lost ;  and  vocal  language  is 
all  the  medium  of  intercourse  that  remains. 

The  eye  "  bent  on  vacuity,"  as  the  artists  call  it,  is  the 
next  most  common  defect,  of  this  sort.  The  glass  eye 
of  a  wax  figure  at  once  tells  its  own  character.  There 
may  be,  in  other  respects,  the  proportion  and  complexion 
of  a  human  face ;  but  that  eye,  the  moment  it  is  examined, 
you  perceive  is  nothing  more,  and,  at  best,  it  can  be  no- 
thing more,  than  a  bungling  counterfeit.  So  the  eye  of  a 
speaker  may  be  open,  and  yet  not  see ;  at  least  there  may 
be  no  discrimination,  no  meaning  in  its  look.  It  does  not 
look  at  any  thing.  There  is  in  its  expression,  a  generality, 
a  vacuity,  so  to  speak,  that  expresses  nothing.  To  the 
same  class  belongs  that  indefinite  sweep  of  the  eye,  which 


»'S  SESTLRE. 

panes  from  one  side  to  another  of  an  assembly,  resting  no- 
where ;  and  that  tremulous,  waving  cast  of  the  eye,  and 
winking  of  the  eyelid,  which  is  in  direct  contrast  to  an  open, 
collected,  manly  expression  of  the  face. 

So  fatal  are  these  faults  to  the  impression  of  delivery,  that 
too  much  care  cannot  be  taken  to  avoid  them. 

Altitude,  I  use,  not  iu  the  theatrical  sense  of  the  word, 
(for  this  has  no  concern  with  oratory,)  but  as  denoting  the 
general  positions  of  the  body,  which  Are  becoming  or  other- 
wise, in  a  speaker.  In  some  few  instances,  I  have  observed 
the  head  to  be  kept  so  erect,  as  to  give  the  air  of  haughti- 
ness. In  others,  it  is  dropped  so  low,  that  the  man  seems  to 
be  carelessly  surveying  his  own  person.  In  others,  it  is  re- 
clined towards  one  shoulder,  so  as  to  give  the  appearance  of 
languor  or  indolence. 

As  to  the  degree  of  motion  that  is  proper  for  {he  body,  it 
may  be  safely  said,  that  while  the  fixedness  of  a  post  is  an 
extreme,  all  violent  tossing  of  the  body  from  side  to  side, 
rising  on  the  toes,  or  writhing  of  the  shoulders  and  limbs,  are 
not  less  unseemly. 

The  remarks  which  come  next  to  be  made  on  ytslure,  are 
more  various. 

One  principal  fault  which  I  have  noticed  in  this,  is  want 
of  appropriateness.  By  this  I  mean  that  it  is  not  sufficiently 
adapted  to  circumstances.  An  address  to  an  assembly  of 
common  men,  admits  a  boldness  of  action  that  would  be  un- 
seemly in  one  deliwml  to  a  prince. 

More  vivacity  and  variety  is  admissible. in  the  action  of 
a  young  speaker,  than  of  one  who  is  aged  ;  and  the  same 
boldness  of   manner  which  is    proper   when  the  orator  is 
kindled  to  a  glowing  fervor,  in   the  close  of   a  disc 
would  be  out  of  place  at  its  commencem  •    the  same 

<1  by  some  speakers,  in   the  exordium,  as  in  the 
conclusion;    in   cool    aryunn-nt   to    tlu-    umi.  -\  Man.lni^.  as  in 
appeal*   to   the  henrt.      Gnorl  «rn«<>  will    Imd   n 


GESTURE.  00 


man,  as  Quintilian  says,  "  To  act  as  well  as  to  speak  in  a  dif- 
ferent manner,  to  different  persons,  at  different  times,  and  on 
different  subjects." 

Nearly  of  the  same  class  is  another  kind  of  faults,  arising 
from  want  of  discrimination.  Of  this  sort  is  that  puerile 
imitation  which  consists  in  acting  words,  instead  of  thoughts. 
The  declaimer  can  never  utter  the  word  heart,  without  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  his  breast ;  nor  speak  of  God  or  heaven,  in 
the  most  incidental  manner,  without  directing  his  eye,  and 
his  gesture  upwards.  Let  the  same  principle  be  carried  out, 
in  repeating  the  prophet's  description  of  true  fasting : — 
"It  is  not  for  a  man  to  bow  down  his  head  as  a  bulrush, 
&c," — and  every  one  would  see  that,  to  conform  the  gesture 
to  the  words,  is  but  childish  mimicry. 

There  is  no  case  in  which  this  want  of  discrimination 
oftener  occurs,  than  in  a  class  of  words  denoting  sometimes 
numerical,  and  sometimes  local  extent,  accompanied  by  the 
spreading  of  both  hands ;  the  significance  of  this  gesture 
being  destroyed  by  misapplication.  The  following  examples 
may  illustrate  my  meaning. 

Exam,.  1 .  "  The  goodness  of  God  is  the  source  of  all  our 
blessings."  The  declaimer,  when  he-utters  the  word  God, 
raises  his  eye  and  his  right  hand  ;  and  when  he  utters  the 
word  all,  extends  both  hands.  Now  the  latter  action  con- 
founds two  things,  that  are  very  distinct,  number  and  space. 
When  I  recount  all  the  blessings  of  my  life,  they  are  very 
many,  but  why  should  I  spread  my  hands,  to  denote  a  mul- 
tiplicity that  is  merely  numerical  and  successive  ?  when  the 
thought  has  no  concern  with  local  dimensions,  any  more  than 
in  this  case  : — "  All  the  days  -of  Methusaleh  were  nine  hun- 
dred and  sixty-nine  years." 

Exam.  2.  All  the  actions  of  our  lives,  will  be  brought  into 
judgment."  Here  again,  the  thought  is  that  of  arithmetical 
succession,  not  of  local  extent ;  and  if  any  gesture  is  de- 
manded, it  is  not  the  spreading  of  both  hands. 


70  • 

Exam.  3.  "  I  brin_'  -A   tidings  of  great  joy,  which 

shall  be  to  nil  peopl-."  H«-tv  the  l«n-al  <-.\t«-nt  which  be- 
longs to  the  thought,  i-  properly  expressed  by  action  of  both 
hands. 

If  there  is  language  in  action,  it  requires  propriety  and 
>n.  The  indiscriminate  movement  of  the  hands  sig- 
nifies nothing.  Want  of  emphasis  in  tins  language  is  a 
great,  but  common  fault.  When  the  speaker,  however, 
has  an  emphatic  stroke  of  the  hand,  its  effect  is  lost,  if  that 
stroke  does  not  accompany  the  emphasis  of  the  voice ;  that 
is,  if  it  falls  one  syllable  after  the  stress  of  voice,  or  if  it 
is  disproportionate  in  force  to  that  stress,  in  the  same  de- 
gree, its  meaning  is  impaired.  The  direction  of  the  hand, 
too,  in  which  the  emphatic  stroke  terminates,  is  significant. 
The  elevated  termination  suits  high  passion ;  the  horison- 
tal,  decision;  the  downward,  disapprobation.  And  any  of 
these  may  denote  definitive  designation  of  particular  ob- 
jects. 

Another  fault  of  action  is  excess.  In  some  cases  it  is  too 
constant.  To  enter  on  a  discourse  with  passionate  exclama- 
iiid  high-wrought  figures,  while  the  speaker  and  audi- 
dience  are  both  cool,  is  not  more  absurd  than  to  begin  with 
continual  gesticulation.  No  man  probably  e\-r  carried  the 
language  of  action  to  so  high  a  pi:  nioft  Yet  Dr. 

Gregory  says  of  this  great  dramatic  speaker, — "  He  us.-d  lr-s 
action  than  any  performer  I  ever  saw  ;  but  his  action  always 
had  meaning  ;  it  always  spoke.  By  being  less  than  that  of 
other  a«-tors.  it  had  (he  greater  force."  But  if  constant  ac- 
tion has  too  much  !•  :i  for  the  stage,  what  shall  wo 
,  say  of  that  man's  taste,  who,  in  speaking  on  a  sub 
serious  importance,  can  scarcely  utter  a  sentence  without 
extending  his  hands  ?  •'*."* 

•   Kenelon  says, — "  Som-'   tiini-   ;ico,   I   happened  to  fall -asleep  at  a 
•ermun ;    and  when  I    awaked,  the   preacher  wan   in    a 
agitation,  BO  that   I  funnel   at  first,  he  wa»  prewing  «ome  important 


GESTURE.  71 

But  gesture  may  be  not  merely  too  much ; — it  may  be 
too  violent.  Such  are  the  habits  of  some  men,  that  they 
can  never  raise  the  hand,  without  stretching  the  arm  at 
full  length  above  the  head,  or  in  a  horizontal  sweep ;  or 
drawing  it  back,  as  if  in  the  attitude  of  prostrating  some 
giant  at  a  stroke.  But  such  a  man  seems  to  forget  that 
gentleness,  and  tranquillity,  and  dignity,  are  attributes  that 
prevail  more  than  violence,  in  real  oratory.  The  full 
stroke  of  the  hand,  with  extended  arm,  should  be  reserved 
for  its  own  appropriate  occasions.  For  common  purposes, 
a  smaller  movement  is  sufficient,  and  even  more  expressive. 
The  meaning  of  a  gesture  depends  not  on  its  compass.  The 
tap  of  Caesar's  finger,  was  enough  to  awe  a  Senate. 

Gesture  is  often  too  complex.  When  there  is  want  of  pre- 
cision, in  the  intellectual  habits  of  the  speaker,  he  adopts 
perhaps  two  or  three  gestures  for  one  thought. '  In  this  way 
all  simplicity  is  sacrificed ;  for  though  the  idea  is  complex, 
an  attempt  to  exhibit  each  shade  of  meaning,  by  the  hand, 
is  ridiculous.  After  one  principal  stroke,  every  appendage 
to  this,  commonly  weakens  its  effect. 

Another  fault  is  too  great  uniformity.  Like  periodic  tones 
and  stress  of  voice,  the  same  gesture  recurring  constantly, 
shows  want  of  discriminating  taste.  "  In  all  things,"  says 
Cicero,  "  repetition  is  the  parent  of  satiety." 

This  barren  sameness  usually  prevails,  in  a  man's  manner, 
just  in  proportion  as  it  is  ungraceful.  Suppose,  for  example, 
that  he  is  "accustomed  to  raise  his  arm  by  a  motion  from  the 
shoulder,  without  bending  the  elbow ;  or  that  the  elbow  is 
bent  to  a  right  angle,  and  thrust  outward ;  or  that  it  is 


point  of  morality.  But  he  was  only  giving  notice,  that  on  the  Sunday 
following,  he  would  preach  upon  repentance.  I  was  extremely  sur- 
prised to  hear  so  indifferent  a  thing  uttered  with  so  much  vehemence. 
The  motion  of  the  arm  is  proper,  when  the  orator  is  very  vehement ; 
but  he  ought  not  to  move  his  arm  in  order  to  appear  vehement.  Nay, 
there  are  many  things  that  ought  to  be  pronounced  calmly,  and  without 
any  motion." 


72  OMTUEB. 

drawn  close  to  the  side,  so  that  the  action  is  confined  to  the 
lower  part  of  the  arm  and  hand ;  or  that  the  hand  is  drawn 
to  the  left,  by  bending  the  wrist  so  far  as  to  give  the  ap- 
pearance of  constraint,  or  backwards  so  far  as  to  contract  the 
thumb  and  fingers  ; — in  nil  these  cases,  the  motion  is  at  once 
stiff  and  unvaried. 

The  same  thing  is  commonly  true  of  all  short,  abrupt,  and 
jerking  movements.  These  remind  you  of  the  dry  limb  of  a 
tree  forced  into  short  and  rigid  vibrations  by  the  wind ;  and 
not  of  the  luxuriant  branch  of  the  willow,  gently  and  vari- 
ously waving  before  the  breeze.  The  action  of  the  graceful 
speaker  is  easy  and  flowing,  as  well  as  forcible.  His  hand 
describes  curve  lines,  rather  than  right  or  acute  angles ;  and 
when  its  office  is  finished,  in  any  case,  it  drops  gently  down 
at  his  side,  instead  of  being  snatched  away,  as  from  the  bite 
of  a  reptile.  The  action  of  young  children  is  never  deficient 
in  grace  or  variety  ;  because  it  is  not  vitiated  by  diffidence, 
affectation,  or  habit. 

There  is  one  more  class  of  faults,  which  seems  to  arise 
from  an  attempt  to  shun  such  as  I  have  just  described,  and 
which  I  cannot  better  designate,  than  by  the  phrase  me- 
chanical variety. 

This  is  analogous  to  that  variety  of  tones,  which  is  pro- 
duced by  an  effort  to  be  various,  without  regard  to  sense. 
The  diversity  of  notes,  like  those  of  the  chiming  clock,  re- 
turns periodically,  but  is  always  the  same  diversity.  So  a 
speaker  may  have  several  gestures,  which  he  repeats  al- 
ways in  the  same  successive  order.  The  most  common 
form  of  this  artificial  variety  consists,  in  the  alternate  use 
of  the  right  hand  and  the  left.  I,  have  seen  a  preacher, 
who  aimed  to  avoid  sameness  of  action,  in  the  course  of 
a  few  sentences,  extend  first  his  right  hand,  then  1. 
and  then  both.  This  order  was  continued  through  the 
discourse ;  so  that  these  three  gestures,  whatever  might 


CE3TURE.  73 

be  the  sentiment,  returned,  with  nearly  periodical  exactness. 
Now  whatever  variety  is  attained  in  this  way,  is  at  best  but  a 
uniform  variety ;  and  is  the  more  disgusting,  in  proportion  as 
it  is  the  more  studied  and  artificial. 

But  the  question  arises,  does  thi&  charge  always  lie  against 
the  use  of  the  left  hand  alone?  I  answer,  by  no  means. 
The  almost  universal  precepts,  however,  in  the  institutes  of 
oratory,  giving  precedence  to  the  right  hand,  are  not  without 
reason.  It  has  been  said,  indeed,  that  the  confinement  of 
the  left  hand  in  holding  up  the  robe,  was  originally  the 
ground  of  this  preference ;  and  that  this  is  a  reason  which 
does  not  exist  in  modern  times.  But  how  did  it  happen  that 
this  service,  denoting  inferiority,  came  to  be  assigned  to  the 
left,  rather  than  the  right  hand  ?  Doubtless  because  this 
accords  with  a  general  usage  of  men,  through  all  time. 
When  Joseph  brought  his  two  sons  to  be  blessed  by  Jacob, 
the  patriarch  signified  which  was  the  object  of  special  bene- 
diction, by  placing  the  right  hand  on  his  head,  and  the  left 
on  the  head  of  the  other.  As  a  token  of  respect  to  his 
mother,  Solomon  gave  her  a  seat  on  the  right  hand  of  his 
throne.  In  the  same  manner  the  righteous  will-  be  distinguish- 
ed from  the  wicked,  in  the  final  judgment.  Throughout  the 
Bible,  the  right  hand  is  spoken  of  as  the  emblem  of  honor, 
strength,  authority,  or  victory. 

The  common  act  of  salutation  is  expressed  by  the  right 
hand  ;  and  hence  its  name  dextra,  from  SB  %O[MI  to  take,  that 
is,  by  the  hand ;  and  hence,  by  figure,  the  English  word  dex- 
trous, denoting  skill  and  agility.  General  custom  has  always 
given  preference  to  the  right  hand,  when  only  one  is  used, 
in  the  common  offices  of  life.  The  sword  of  the  warrior,  the 
knife  of  the  surgical  operator,  the  pen  of  the  author,  belong 
to  this  hand.  With  us,  to  call  a  man  left  handed  is  to  call 
him  awkwardj  and  it  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  Sandwich 
Islanders  use  the  same  phrase  to  denote  ignorance  or  unskill- 
fulness.  To  give  the  left  hand  in  salutation,  de»/  tes  a  fainil- 

4 


74  UEriTUHK. 

iarity  and  levity,  never  offered  to  a  superior.  To  employ 
this  in  taking  an  oath,  or  in  giving  what  is  called  the  "  riyht 
hand  of  fellowship,"  as  a  religious  act,  would  be  deemed 
rusticity  or  irreverent  trifling. 

Now  so  long  as  this  general  usage  exists,  without  inquir- 
ing here  into  its  origin,  it  is  manifest  that  the  left  hand  can 
never,  without  incongruity,  assume  precedence  over  the 
right,  so  as  to  perform  alone  the  principal  gesture,  with  th« 
few  exceptions  mentioned  below.  To  raise  this  hand,  for 
example,  as  expressing  authority  ;  or  to  lay  it  on  the  breast, 
in  an  appeal  to  conscience,  would  be  likely  to  excite  a  smile. 
Though  it  often  acts  with  great  significance,  in  conjunction  with 
the  right  hand,  the  only  cases,  that  I  recollect,  where  it  can 
with  propriety  act  alone,  in  the  principal  gesture.  ;ire  these: 

First,  when  the  left  hand  is  spoken  of  in  contradistinction 
from  the  right ;  "  He  shall  set  the  sheep  on  his  right  hand, 
but  the  goats  on  his  left."  Secondly,  when  there  is  local 
allusion  to  some  object  on  the  left  of  the  speaker.  For  ex- 
ample, if  his  face  is  to  the  north,  and  he  points  to  the  setting 
sun,  it  is  better  perhaps  to  do  it  with  his  left  hand,  than  to 
turn  his  body,  so  as  to  make  it  convenient  to  do  it  with  his 
right.  Thirdly,  when  two  things  are  contrasted,  though 
without  local  allusion,  if  the  case  requires,  that  the  one  be 
marked  by  the  action  of  the  right  hand,  it  is  often  best  to 
mark  the  antithetic  object  with  the  left. 

But  I  would  not  magnify,  by  dwelling  on  it,  a  question  of 
so  small  moment.  It  would  have  been  dispatched  in  a  sen- 
tence or  two,  had  it  not  seemed  proper  to  show,  that  what 
some  are  disposed  to  call  an  arbitrary  and  ground 

•  •(  ain-ient  rhetoric,  has  its  foundation  in  a  general  and 
;<  live  feeling  of  propriety.  Still  I  would  say,  that  when 
a  departure  from  this  precept  results,  not  from  affectation, 
but  from  emotion,  it  is  far  better  than  any  minute  observ- 
ance of  propriety,  which  arise*  from  a  coldly  correct  and 
artificial  habit. 


GESTURE.  75 


In  finishing  this  chapter,  the  general  remark  may  be 
made,  as  applying  to  action,  and  indeed  to  the  whole  sub- 
ject of  delivery,  that  many  smaller  blemishes  are  scarcely 
observed  in  a  speaker,  who  is  deeply  interested  in  his  sub- 
ject; while  the  affectation  of  excellence,  is  never  excused 
by  judicious  hearers.  To  be  a  first  rate  orator,  requires  a 
combination  of  powers  which  few  men  possess :  and  no 
means  of  cultivation  can  ever  confer  these  highest  requisites 
for  eloquence,  on  public  speakers  generally.  But  neither 
is  it  necessary  to  eminent  usefulness,  that  these  >  requisites 
should  be  possessed  by  all.  Any  man,  who  has  good  sense, 
and  a  warm  heart,  if  his  faculties  for  elocution  are  not 
essentially  defective,  and  if  he  is  patient  and  faithful  in  the 
discipline  of  these  faculties,  may  render  himself  an  agreeable 
and  impressive  speaker. 


EXERCISES 


PART  I. 


PREPARATORY  REMARKS. 

THE  selections  in  Part  I.,  of  these  Exercises,  are  designed 
especially  to  exemplify  the  principles  of  rhetorical  delivery, 
as  laid  down  in  the  foregoing  pages.  These  principles 
are  the  same  as  those  contained  in  my  ANALYSIS,  only 
thrown  into  a  more  brief  and  simple  form,  for  a  younger 
class  of  readers,  than  were  contemplated  in  that  work.  I 
see  no  reason  to  change  the  original  plan,  of  giving  one  series 
of  exercises,  with  a  rhetorical  notation,  throughout ;  and 
another  series  of  miscellaneous  pieces  in  which  such  a  nota- 
tion is  but  partially  applied. 

These  Exercises  of  the  first  part,  are  much  the  same  as 
those  of  the  ANALYSIS,  chiefly  because  the  examples  were 
selected,  with  great  expense  of  time,  from  the  whole  com- 
pass of  English  literature ;  and  because  it  is  not  easy  to 
make  another  selection,  so  well  adapted  to  the  various  prin- 
ciples to  be  illustrated. 

In  using  the  Exercises  of  Part  I.,  the  student  may  be  as- 
listed  by  the  following  remarks. 

1.  At  the  head  of  each  exercise,  on  the  left  hand,  the  page 
is  noted,  where  the  prinriplt;  is  contained,  which  the  exam- 
ples are  intended  to  illustrate. 

2.  Under   the   several    heads,   a   r/n'i>»-tr<tl   notation,   ac- 
cording to  the  Key  given  at  the  beginning,  is  so  applied  aa 


PREPARATORY    REMARKS.  77 

to  designate  inflection,  emjjhasis,  and  towards  the  close, 
modulation.  When  emphatic  stress  is  but  moderate,  it  is 
often  distinguished  only  by  the  mark  of  inflection  ;  when  the 
stress  amounts  to  decided  emphasis,  it  is  denoted  by  the 
Italic  type;  and  sometimes,  when  strongly  intensive,  by 
small  capitals.  In  examples  taken  from  the  Scriptures,  Italic 
words  are  used,  not  as  in  the  English  Bible,  but  solely  to 
express  emphasis. 

3.  In  applying  a  rhetorical  notation  so  as  most  fully  to 
exhibit  sentiment  and  emotion,  there  is  often  room  for  diver- 
sity of  taste.     Any  amendments,  in  this  respect,  which  may 
be  suggested  by  Teachers  or  others,  will  be  gratefully  re- 
ceived. 

4.  They  who  use  these  Exercises  should  be  aware  that 
examples,  which  apply  exclusively  to  a  single  principle  of 
elocution,  are  commonly  very  short.     When  longer  ones  are 
chosen,  including  other  principles,  besides  the  one  especially 
in  view,  it  will  still  be  apparent  from  the  notation,  what  is 
the  point  chitfly  to  be  regarded. 

5.  Before  attempting  to  read  any  Exercise,  the  principle 
intended  to  be  illustrated  should  be  well  examined  by  the 
pupil.     Especially  under  the  head  of  Modulation,  no  example 
expressive  of  passion,  should  be  read  without  being  studied 
beforehand. 


EXERCISES  ON  ARTICULATION. 

i:\i:unsK  i. 

Page  24.     ])ifficult  artirulation  from,   immediate  succession 

sounds. 

1.  The  youth  hatw  stw\\. 

2.  The  wild  beasts  */raggled  through  the  vale. 

3.  The  steadfa*/  stranger  through  the  fores/*  */rayed. 

4.  It  was  the  fines/  */reet  of  the  city. 

5.  When  Ajaar  drives  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw. 

6.  It  was  the  severe*/  storm  of  (he  season,  but  the  mas/* 
stood  through  the  gale. 

7.  That  laste  /ill  night.   ) 
That  last  still  night.   $ 

8.  He  can  debate  on  either  side  of  tin-  (ju<-stion.      ) 
He  can  debate  on  ««ther  side  of  the  question.    $ 

9.  Who  ever  imagined  such  on  ocean  to  exist? 
Who  ever  imagined  such  a  notion  to  exist? 

Page  25.  Difficult  succession  of  consonant*  with  remote  accent. 

1 .  He  has  taken  leave  of  terrestrial  trials  and  enjoyments, 
and  is  laid  in  the  grave,  the  common  receptacle  and  home  of 
mortals. 

2.  Tliough   this  barbarous  chief  received  us  very  oonr* 
teously,  and  spoke  to  us  very   comnnuucatii'ely  at  the    ; 
interview,  we  soon  lost  our  confidence  in  the  disinterestednes* 
of  his  in i.t. 

8.  Though  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  rtaionable- 
ness  of  our  request,  yet  he  saw  fit  peremptorily  to  refuse  it, 
and  authoritatinli/  t<>  n-<|uir<-  that  we  should  depart  from  the 
country.  As  no  alternative  was  left  us,  we 
prepared  to  obey  this  arbitrary  manda 


EXERCISES  ON   IM-l.KCTION. 


Page  29.      The  •  i  ring  inflection  before, 

and  t/»  r 

1.  Then  said  Jesus  unto  thorn,  I  will  nsk  you  one  thing. 


Ex.  2.]  EXERCISES    ON    INFLECTION.  79 

Is  it  lawful  on  the  sabbath-days  to  do  good,  or  to  do  evil  ? 
to  save  life  or  to  destroy  it  ? 

2.  Whether  we  are  hurt  by  a  mad  or  a  blind  man,'  the 
pain  is  still  the  same.     And  with  regard  to  those  who  are 
undone,  it  avails  little  whether  it  be  by  a  man  who  deceives 
them,  or  by  one  who  is  himself  deceived. 

3.  Has    God  forsaken  the  works  of  his  own  hands  ?  or 
does  he  always  graciously  preserve,   and  keep,  and  guide 
them  ? 

4.  Therefore,  O   ye  judges !   you  are  now  to  consider, 
whether  it  is  more  probable  that  the  deceased  was  murder- 
ed by  the  man  who  inherits  his  estate,  or  by  him,  who  in- 
herits nothing  but  beggary  by  the  same  death.     By  the  man 
who  was  raised  from  penury  to  plenty,  or  by  him  who  was 
brought  from  happiness  to  misery.     By  him  whom  the  lust 
of  lucre  has  indamed  with  the  most  inveterate  hatred  against 
his  own  relations  ;  or  by  him  whose  life  was  such,  that  he 
never  knew  what  gain  was,  but  from  the  product  of  his  own 
labors.     By  him,  who  of  all  dealers  in  the  trade  of  blood, 
was  the  most  audacious ;  or  by  him  who  was  so  little  ac- 
customed to  the  forum  and  trials,  that  he  dreads  not  only 
the  benches  of  a  court,  but  the  very  town.     In  short,  ye 
judges,  what  I  think  most  to  this  point  is,  you  are  to  con- 
sider whether  it  is  most  likely  that  an  enemy,  or  a  son,  would 
be  guilty  of  this  murder. 

5.  As   for    the    particular   occasion   of    these    (charity) 
schools,   there  cannot   any  offer,   more  worthy   a   generous 
mind.     Would  you  do  a  handsome  thing  without  return  ? 
— do  it  for  an  infant  that  is  not  sensible  of  the  obligation.* 
Would  you  do  it  for  the  public  good  ? — do  it  for  one  who 
will  be  an  honest  artificer.     Would  you  do  it  for  the  sake 
of  heaven  ? — give  it  for  one  who  shall  be  instructed  in  the 
worship  of  Him,  for  whose  sake  you  gave  it. 


EXERCISE  3 

Page  29.       The   direct   question,  or   that   which  admits   the 

answers  yes  or  no,  has  the  rising  inflection,  and  the 

answer  has  the  falling. 

1.  Will 'the   Lord  cast  off  forever,  and  will  he  be  fa- 
vorable no  more  ?      Is  his  mercy  clean  gone  forever  ?  doth 

*  Disjunctive  or  is  understood. 


•*'•  [Hx.  3. 

his  promise  fail  for  '     Hath  God  forgotten  to  be 

gracious?  Iiath  he  in  anger  shut  up  his  tender  mercies? 

•J.    Is   n<>t    this   the   carjient'  is    not   his    n: 

called    y  -tlip-n,  James,  and  Ju>- 

mon,  and  Judas  ?  and  hi-  .re  they  not  all  with 

:i.  Are  we  intended  for  actors  in  the  grand  drama  of 
eternity?  Are  we  candidates  for  the  plaudit  of  the  rational 
creation  ?  formed  to  participate  the  supreme  be- 

atitude in  communicating   happiness?     Are  we  destined  to 
co-operate  with  God  in  advancing  the  order  and  perfect 
his  works  ?     How  sublime  a  creature  then  is  man ! 


The  following  art  ixamples  of  both  question  and  answer. 

4.  Who  are  the  persons  that  are  most  apt  to  fall  into 
peevishness   and    dejection — that  are    continually  complain- 
ing of  the  world,  and  see  nothing  but  wretchedness  around 
them  ?     Are  they  those  whom  want  compels  to  toil  for  their 
daily  bread  ? — who  have  no  treasure  but  the  labor  of  their 

— who  rise,  with   the  rising  sun,  to  expose  thorn 
to  all  the  rigors  of  the  seasons,  unsheltered  from   the  win- 
ter's cold,  and  unshaded  from  the  summer's  heat  ?    Nd.    The 
labors  of  such  are  the  very  blessings  of  their  condition. 

5.  What,  then,  what  was  Caesar's  object  ?     Do  we  se- 
lect extortioners,  to  enforce  the  laws  of  equity  ?      Do  we 
make  choice  of  profligates,  to  guard  the  morals  of  s<> 

Do  we  depute  atheists,  to  preside  over  the  rites  of  relfgion  ? 
I  will  not  press  the  answer  :  1  need  not  press  the  answer ; 
the  premises  of  my  argument  render  it  unnecessary. - 
would    content   you?     Talent?      No!      Knierpr 
Coiinr.  .tiim?     Nd !     Virtue?     No!     The 

men  whom  you  would  select,  should  possess,  not  one,  hut 
all,  of  these. 

6.  Can  the  truth  be  discovered  when  the  slaves  of 
prosecutor  are    brought    as   witnesses    against   the  person 
accused?       L«-t    us  hear  now    what    kind   of  an  examination 
this  was.     Call   in    RUM-JO  :  Call    in    Casca.      Did    Clodius 
wayla;  lie   did:    I)r.iL,'  them   instantly    to  execution. 
— He  did   not  :   Let  them   have  their  liberty.      What  can  be 
mor. 

.<-iioti>  that    your  t  -    may 

i-lv    (o 


Ex.3,  4.]  EXERCISES    ON    INFLECTION.  81 

es  might  excite  ?  Let  them  not  minister  to  pride,  but  adorn 
them  with  humility. — 'There  is  not  an  evil  incident  to  hu- 
man nature  for  which  the  Gospel  doth  not  provide  a  remedy. 
Are  you  ignorant  of  many  things  which  it  highly  concerns 
you  to  know  ?  The  Gospel  offers  you  instruction.  Have 
you  deviated  from  the  path  of  duty  ?  The  Gospel  offers  you 
forgiveness.  Do  temptations  surround  you  ?  The  Gospel 
offers  you  the  *aid  of  heaven.  Are  you  exposed  to  misery  ? 
It  consoles  you.  Are  you  subject  to  death  ?  It  offers  you 
immortality. 


Page  29,  Note  1.      When  (or)   is  used  conjunctively,  it  has 
the  same  inflection  before  and  after  it. 

In  some    sentences   the  disjunctive  and  the  conjunctive  use  of  or 
are  so  intermingled  as  to  require  careful  attention  to  distinguish  them. 

1.  Canst  thou  bind    the  unicorn  with  his  .band  in  the 
furrow  ?    or  will  he  harrow  the  valleys  after  thee  ?     Wilt 
thou  trust  him  because  his  strength  is  great  ?  or  wilt  thou 
leave   thy  labor   to  him  ?     Gavest   thou  the  goodly  wings 
unto  the   peacocks  ?  or  wings  and  feathers  unto  the  ostrich  ? 
Canst  thou  draw  out  leviathan  with  a  hook  ?  or  his  tongue 
with  a  cord  which   thou  lettest  down  ?     Canst  thou  put  a 
hook  into  his  nose  ?  or  bore  his  jaw  through  with  a  thorn  ? 
Wilt  thou  play  with  him  as  with  a  bird  ?  or  wilt  thou  bind 
him  for  thy  maidens  ?     Canst  thou  fill  his  skin  with  barbed 
irons  ?  or  his  head  with  fish  spears  ? 

2.  But   should  these  credulous   infidels  after  all  be   in 
the  right,  and  this  pretended  revelation  be  all  a  fable ;  from 
believing    it  what    harm    could    ensue  ?    would    it   render 
princes  more  tyrannical,  or  subjects  more  ungovernable,  the 
rich  more  insolent,  or  the  poor  more  disorderly  ?     Would 
it   make   worse    parents   or   children,  husbands,  or   wives  ; 
masters,  or  servants,   friends,  or   neighbors  ?    or*  would  it 
not  make  men  more  virtuous,  andr  consequently,  more  happy, 
in  every  situation  ? 


EXERCISE  4. 

Page  30.     Negation  opposed  to  affirmation. 
1.  True  charity   is    not    a    meteor,    which   occasionally 

*  The  last  or  is  disjunctive. 
4* 


82  I.XERCIHE9    ON    INFLECTION.  [K\.  4,  5. 

glares  ;  but  a  luminary,   which,  in   its    orderly  and  regular 

.-us''-  :i  benignant  influence. 

•_'.  'I'liink  nut.  that  the  influence  of  devotion  is  confined  to 
tiif  r,-iii,-:ii--nt  of  the  closet,  and  the  assemblies  of  the  saints. 
Imagine  not,  that,  unconnected  with  the  duties  of  life,  it  is 
suited  only  to  those  emaptun  d  -mils,  whose  feelings,  per- 
haps, yii  deride  as  romantic  and  visionary.  It  is  the  guar- 
dian of  innocence — it  is  the  instrument  of  \irtue — it  is  a 
means  by  which  every  good  affection  may  be  formed  and  im- 
proved. 

'  8.  Caesar,  who  would  not  wait  the  conclusion  of  the  con- 
sul's speech,  generously  replied,  that  he  came  into  Italy  not 
to  injure  the  liberties  of  Rome  and  its  citi/ens,  but  to  restore 
them. 

4.  If  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with  the  Father, 
Jesus  Christ   the  righteous:   and    lie  is    the    propitiation  for 
our  sins  ;  and^  not  for  6urx  only,  but  also  for  tl  :   the 
whole  wdrld. 

5.  These   things   I    say  now,   not  to  insult  one   who  is 
fallen,  but  to  render  more  secure  those  who  stand  ;  not  to  ir- 
ritate the  hearts  of  the  wounded,  but  to  preserve  those,  who 
are  not  yet  wounded,  in  sound   health  ;  not  to  submerge  him 
who  is  tossed  on  the  billows,  but  to  instruct  those  sailing  be- 
fore a  propitious  bn-e/.e,  that  they  may  not  be  plunged  be- 
neath the  waves. 

G.'  Hut  this  is  np  time  for  a  tribunal  of  justice,  but  for 
showing  mercy;  not  for  accusation,  but  for  philanthropy; 
not  for  trial,  but  for  pardon  ;  not  for  sentence,  and  execution, 
but  compassion  and  kindness. 

Comparison  and  contrast  belong  to  the  tame  head. 

1.  By  honor  and  dishonor,  by  evil  report  and  good  re- 
port; as  i  }'•?  true  ;  a-  unknown,  and  yet  well 
known  ;  as  dv'ing,  and  behold  we  live;  as  cb.i-ten.-d  and  not 
killed  ;  as  sorrowful.  \<-  snak- 
ing many  rich:  as  having  nothing,  and  \et  p..>-es>ing  all 
things. 

Be  y<'  not  unequally  yoked  together  \\ith  unbelievers;  for 
what  -ip  hath  righteousness  with  unrighteousneM? 

and  what  communion  hath  light  with  darkness  '.'  and  what 
concord  hath  Christ  with  Belial?  or  what  part  hath  he  that 
believclh  with  an  infidel  ? 


lix.   5.]  EXERCISES    ON    INFLECTION.  83 

A  wise  man  feareth,  and  departeth  from  evil ;  but  the 
fool  rageth,  and  is  confident.  The  wicked  is  driven  away 
in  his  wickedness ;  but  the  righteous  hath  hope  in  his 
death.  Righteousness  exalteth  a  nation  ;  but  sin  is  a  re- 
proach to  any  people.  The  king's  favor  is  toward  a  wise 
servant ;  but  his  wrath  is  against  him  that  causeth  shame. 

2.  Between  fame  and  true  honor  a  distinction   is  to  be 
made.     The  former  is  a  blind  and  noisy  applause  :  the  lat- 
ter a  more  silent  and  internal  homage.     Fame  floats  on  the 
breath  of  the  multitude  :  honor  rests  on  the  judgment  of  the 
thinking.     Fame  may  gire  praise,  while  it  withholds  esteem ; 
true  honor  implies  esteem,  mingled  with  respect.     The  one 
regards  particular  distinguished  talents  :  the  other  looks  up- 
on the  whole  character. 

3.  Europe  was  one  great  field  of  battle,  where  the  weak 
struggled  for  freedom,  and  the  strong  for  dominion.     The 
king  was  without  power,  and  the  nobles  without  principle. 
They  were  tyrants  at  home,  and  robbers  abroad.     Nothing 
remained  to  be  a  check  upon  ferocity  and  violence. 

4.  The  power  of   delicacy  is  chiefly  seen  in  discerning 
the  true  merit  of  a  work ;  the  power  of  correctness,  in  re- 
jecting false  pretensions  to  merit.     Delicacy  leans  more  to 
feeling  ;    correctness  more  to  reason  and  judgment.      The 
former  is  more  the  gift  of  nature ;  the  latter,  more  the  prod- 
uct of  culture  and  art.     Among   the   ancient  critics,  Lon- 
ginus   possessed  most  delicacy ;  Aristotle,  most  correctness. 
Among  the  moderns,  Mr.    Addison  is  a  high  example  of 
delicate  taste  ;  Dean  Swift,  had  he  written  on  the  subject  of 
criticism,  would  perhaps  have  afforded  the  example  of  a  cor- 
rect one. 

5.  Homer  was  the  greater   genius ;  Virgil,   the   better 
artist ;  in  the  one,  we  most  admire  the  man  ;  in  the  other, 
the    work.      Homer   hurries    us    with   a   commanding    im- 
petuosity ;  Virgil  leads  us  with  an  attractive  majesty.     Ho- 
mer scatters  with   a   generous    profusion ;    Virgil    bestows 
with  a  careful  magnificence.     Homer,  like  the  Nile,   pours 
out  his  riches  with  a  sudden  overflow ;  Virgil,  like  a  river 
in   its  banks,  with  a  constant  stream. — And  when  we  look 
upon  their  machines,  Homer  seems,  like  his  own  Jupiter  in 
his  terrors,  shaking  Olympus,  scattering  tho.  lightnings,  and 
firing  the   heavens  ;   Virgil,  like  the   same  power  in  his  be- 
nevolence, counseling  with  the  gods,   laying  plans  for  em- 
pires, and  ordering  his  whole  creation. 


KXCBCI8E8    ON    INFLECTION.  [llx.   4,  5. 


»'>.    Uryden  kn<  »n   in  his  Lr.-nend  nature.  and 

Pope  in  his  local   manners.     The  in>ti«>n>  <-t    I>ryden 
formed  by  comprehci.  n.  tli«>,«.  of  Pope  by  mi- 

101]. 

is  and    \  uried  ;   that  of 
Pope  is  cautious  and   uniform.     l>ryd«n  ol..-ys  tin-  motions 

own  mind  ;  Pope  constrains  his  mind  t»  his  own 
rules  of  composition.  l>rvd«n  is  sometimes  vehement  and 
rapid  ;  Pope  is  always  smooth,  uniform,  and  gentle.  Dry- 

page  is  a  natural   field,    rising  into   inequalities,  and 
diversified  by  the  varied  exuberance  of  abundant  vegtt 
Pope's  is  a  \elvet  l.iwn.  .-hav.-n  liy  tli.-  .-\th«-.  and  leveled  by 
the  roller. 

If    the    flights  of    Dryden   are   higher.     Tope    continues 
longer    on    the    wing.       If    of  Dryd.-n'>    tin-,    the    blaze    is 

•  r;  of  Pope's  the  heat  is  more  regu;  i  stank 

Dryden  often  surpasses  expectation,  and  Pope  never  falls 
beldw  it.  Drydrn  is  read  with  frequent  astonishment,  and 
Pope  with  perpetual  delight. 

7.   .\i-\i-r    before  were  so  many  opposing  interests,  pas- 
sions,   and   principles,   committed    to  such  a  decision.     On 

'ie  an  attachment   to  the  ancient  ord--r  of  things,  on 

iier  a  passionate  desire  of  change;  a  wish  in  some  to 
in  others    to   i!'--tn>v  <-\.  TV  thing  ;    every  abuse 
sacred  in  t  :ner,  every  foundation  attempt- 

ed to  be   demolished     by    tli-  t   j»-;ilou«.y   of    power 

skrinking  IV  nnovation,  pretensions  to  free- 

dom  |  madness  and  anarchy;    superstition    in  all 

its  dotage,  impiety  in  all  its  fury. 


'  of  iitxjiension  r<f/iiires  ;  slidt. 

Sereral  kind*  of  «^ntenc«i  are  claMed  undrr  thi*  rul«-.  in  thf  body  of 
the  work  ;  but  ag  the  principle  is  the  MOM  in  nil.  no  Jixtin.-tion  it  nc- 
in  thr  Kxcrcue*. 


1.    1  •'•>!•  if    (Jod   s;                   the  angels  that  sinned,    but, 

cast  them  down  to  hell,  and  d.  in  into  chain- 
darkness,  to  l>e  reserveil    unt<- 

!.  but  sa^       •  i^lith  person,  a  pn- 

er  of                 .Mie.ss.  biiiiL'ini;  in  tljp  flo«»d  ujmn   the  world  of 

the  ungodly:  and   turning   ;  -  "dom  and  (iomor- 
rah  into  nshw.  condemned  them  with  an  overthrow.  m.;> 


Ex.  5.]  KXERCISE3    ON    INFLECTION.  85 

them  an  ensample  unto  those  that  after  should  live  ungodly ; 
And  delivered  just  Lot,  vexed  with  the  filthy  conversation  of 
the  wicked  :  (For  that  righteous  man  dwelling  among  them,  in 
seeing  and  hearing,  vexed  his  righteous  soul  from  day  to  day 
with  their  unlawful  deeds ;)  The  Lord  knoweth  how  to  de- 
liver the  godly  out  of  temptations,  and  to  reserve  the  unjust 
unto  the  day  of  judgment  to  be  punished. 

2.  If  reason  teaches  the  learned,  necessity  the  barbarian, 
common  custom  all  nations  in  general ;  and  if  even  nature 
itself  instructs  the  brutes  to  defend  their  bodies,  limbs,  and 
lives,  when  attacked,  by  all  possible  methods ;    you  cannot 
pronounce  this  action  criminal,  without  determining  at  the 
same  time  that  whoever  falls  into  the  hands  of  a  highway- 
man, must  of  necessity  perish  either  by  his  sword  or  your 
decisions.     Had  Milo  been  of  this    opinion,  he  would  cer- 
tainly have  chosen  to  fall  by  the  hands  of  Clodius,  who  had 
more  than  once,  before  this,  made  an  attempt  upon  his  life, 
rather  than  be  executed  by  your  order,  because  he  had  not 
tamely  yielded  himself  a  viclim  to  his  rage.     But  if  none 
of  you  are  of  this  opinion,  the  proper  question  is  not  whether 
Clodius  was  killed  ?  for  that  we  grant :  but  whether  justly 
or  unjustly  ?  an  inquiry  of  which  many  precedents  are  to  be 
found. 

3.  Seeing  then  that  the  soul  has  many  different  faculties, 
or,  in  other  words,  many  different  ways  of  acting ;  that  it 
can  be  intensely  pleased  or  made  happy  by  all  these  differ- 
ent faculties,   or  ways  of  acting ;  that  it  may  be  endowed 
with  several  latent  faculties,  which  it  is  not  at  present  in  a 
condition  to  exert ;  that  we  cannot  believe  the  soul  is  en- 
dowed with  any  faculty  which  is  of  no  use  to  it ;  that  when- 
ever any  one  of  these    faculties  is  transcend ently   pleased, 
the  soul   is  in  a  state  of  happiness ;  and  in  the  last  place, 
considering  that  the  happiness  of  another  world  is  to  be  the 
happiness   of  the  whole    man  ;  who  can   question  but  that 
there  is  an  infinite  variety  in  those  pleasures  we  are  speak- 
ing of;  and  that  this  fullness  of  joy  will  be  made  up  of  all 
those  pleasures  which   the  nature  of  the  soul  is  capable  of 
receiving  ? 

4.  When  the  gay  and  smiling  aspect  of  things  has  be- 
gun to  leave  the  passages  to  a  man's  heart  thus  thoughtlessly 
unguarded ;  when  kind   and  caressing  looks   of  every  object 
without,  that  can  flatter  his  senses,   has  conspired  with  the 
enemy  within,  to  betray  him  and   put  him  off'  his  defense: 


M5  K\J.I:«  I-  i  .-    "\    i\n.i:cTio\.  [E 

when  music  like\\i>e  hath  lent  her  aid,  and  tried  her  power 
upon  tin-  passions;   when  il  ,f  sinking  men,  and  the 

ing  women,  with  the  sound  of  the  viol  and 
lute.  ha\e  broken  in  upon  his  soul,  and  in  some  U-: 
notes  have  touched  the  sen  •  -  «i  rapture, — that 

ment  let  us  dissect  and  look   into  his  In-art;  see   how  % 
how  weak,  how  empty  a  tiling  it  i>  '. 

5.  Besides  the  ignorance  of  masters  who  teach  th-- 
rudiments  of  reading,  and  the  want  of  skill,  or  negligence  in 
that  article,  of  those  who  teach  the  learned  languages;  be- 
sides the  erroneous  manner,  which  the  untutored  pupils  fall 
into,  through  the  want  of  early  attention  in  masters,  to  cor- 
rect small  faults  in  the  beginning,  which  increase  and  gain 
strength  with  years;  besides  bad  habits  contracted  from  imi- 
tation of  particular  persons,  or  the  contagion  of   exan. 
from  a  general  prevalence  of  a  certain  tone  or  chant  in  read- 
ing or  reciting,  peculiar  to  each  school,  and  regularly  trans- 
mitted, from  one  generation  of  boys  to  another  :  besides  all 
the>e,  which  are  fruitful  sources  of  vicious  elocution,  there  is 
one  fundamental   error,   in   the  method  universally   used  in 
teaching  to  read,  which  at  tir>t  ijives  a  wrong  bias,  and  leads 
us  ever  after  blindfold  from  the   ri^ht   path,  under  the  guid- 
ance of  a  false  rule. 

6.  A  guilty  or  a  discontented  mind,  a  mind,  ruffled  by 
ill  fortune,  disconcerted  by  its  own   passions,  soured    In   I 

or   fretting    at    disappointments,    hath    not    I 
attend  to  tin-  or  reasonableness  of  a  kindness 

sfred,  or  a   taste  for  those  pleasures   which  wait  <>n   U-m-ti- 
cence,  which  demand  a  calm  and  unpolluted  heart  to  relish 

tlH-tll. 

7.  "  1     p.  rfe.-tly    remember,    that    when  Calidius    prose- 
cuted Q.  (iallius  for  at.  him,  and  pretend- 
ed that    he  had    (1 

many    letters,    witues.se-;,    in;  \idence« 

to  put  the  truth  of  ••   l.eyon.i 

many  sensible   and  -   remarks  «.n   the   nature  of  tin.- 

crime;  I   remember,"    says   i  that    when   it  came  to 

my  turn  to  reply  to  him,  after  ui  .imeiit  wi 

suggested,  I  ii.  <:\  it  a.s  a 

-Lance  in   favor  of  .r,  while 

iiarg«-d  him  with  a  de-i^n  a_  life,  and 

us  that   he   had   the   in  llun  in 

his  1  ;ted  Ins  >>toiv  v.itli  -  •  ise.   and 


Ex.   5.]  EXERCISES    ON    INFLECTION.  87 

calmness  and  indifference,  as  if  nothing  had  happened." 
— "  Would  it  have  been  possible,"  exclaimed  Cicero,  (ad- 
dressing himself  to  Calidius,)  "  that  you  should  speak  with 
this  air  of  unconcern,  unless  the  charge  was  purely  an  in- 
vention of  your  own  ? — and,  above  all,  that  you,  whose  elo- 
quence has  often  vindicated  the  wrongs  of  other  people 
with  so  much  spirit,  should  speak  so  coolly  of  a  crime  which 
threatened  your  life '?" 

8.  To  acquire  a  thorough  knowledge  of  our  own  hearts 
and  characters,  to  restrain   every  irregular  inclination, — to 
subdue  every  rebellious  passion, — to  purify  the  motives  of 
our  conduct, — to  form  ourselves   to  that  temperance  which 
no  pleasure  can  seduce, — to  that  meekness  which  no  prov- 
ocation   can   ruffle, — to   that    patience   which   no   affliction 
can  overwhelm,   and   that   integrity  which  no  interest  can 
shake ;  this  is  the  task  which   is   assigned  to  us, — a   task 
which  cannot  be  performed  without  the  utmost  diligence  and 
care. 

9.  The  beauty  of  a  plain,  the  greatness  of  a  mountain, 
the  ornaments  of  a  building,  the  expression  of  a  picture,  the 
composition  of  a  discourse,  the  conduct  of  a  third  person, 
the  proportion  of  different  quantities  and  numbers,  the  va- 
rious appearances  which  the  great  machine  of  the  universe  is 
perpetually  exhibiting,  the  secret  wheels  and  springs  which 
produce  them,  all  the  general  subjects  of  science  and  taste, 
are  what  we  and  our  companions  regard  as  having  no  pecul- 
iar relation-to  either  of  us. 

10.  Should  such  a  man,  too  fond  to  rule  alone, 

Bear,  like  the  Turk,  no  brother  near  the  throne, 

View  him  with  scornful,  yet  with  jealous  eyes, 

And  hate  for  arts  that  caus'd  himself  to  rise  ; 
5  Damn  with  faint  praise,  assent  with  civil  leer, 

And,  without  sneering,  teach  the  rest  to  sneer  ; 

Willing  to  wound,  and  yet  afraid  to  strike, 

Just  hint  a  fault,  and  hesitate  dislike  ; 

Alike  reserv'd  to  blame,  or  to  commend, 
10  A  tim'rous  foe,  and  a  suspicious  friend  ; 

Dreading  even  fools,  by  Flatterers  besieg'd, 

And  so  obliging,  that  he  ne'er  oblig'd  ; 

Like  Cato,  give  his  little  senate  laws, 

And  sit  attentive  to  his  own  applause ; 
15  While  Wits  and  Templars  every  sentence  raise, 

And  wonder  with  a  foolish  face  of  prafse — 


KCI8E9    ON    INFLECTION.  [Ex.  5,  0. 


Who  but  imM  laugh,  if  such  a  man  there  be? 
would  not  weep,  if  ATTICTS  were  he! 


1  1  .  For  these  reasons,  the  senate  and  people  of  Athens, 
(with  due  veneration  to  the  gods  and  heroes,  and  guardians 
•  >f  tin-  Athenian  city  and  territory,  whose  aid  they  now  im- 
plore ;  and  with  due  attention  to  the  virtue  of  their  ances- 
tors, to  whom  the  general  liberty  of  Greece  was  ever  dearer 
than  the  particular  interest  of  their  own  state,  )  have  resolved 
that  a  fleet  of  two  hundred  vessels  shall  be  sent  to  sea,  the 
admiral  to  cruise  within  the  straits  of  Thermopylae. 

As  to  my  own  abilities   in  speaking,  (for  I  shall  admit 
this  charge,  although  experience  hath  convinced  me,  that 
what  is  called  the  power  of  eloquence  depends  for  th- 
part  upon  the   hearers,  and   that  the  characters   of  public 
speakers  are  determined  by  that  degree  of  favor  whi 
\ourhsafe  to  each,)  if  long   practice,  I  say,  hath   given  iw 
any  proBciency  in  speaking,  you  have  ever  found  it  devoted 
i»  my  country.* 

Of  the  various  exceptions  which  fall    under  the  rule  of  suspending 
injlection,  the    only  one    which   needs    additional    exemplification,    j* 
that,    where  emphasis  requir  -.    th--    mt'  n*i\<-    fil!m_'   *}\.\>-.  t,. 
the  true  sense,     s  •!•!  -13.      Irksome  cases  of  this  sort,  tin 

omission  of  the  fulling  slide  only  weakens  the  meaning;   in  other*  it 

1.  If  the  population  of  this  country  were  to  remain  sta- 
tionary, a  great  increase  of  effort  would  be  necessary  to 
supply  each  family  with  a  Bible  ;  how  much  more  when  this 
population  is  increasing  every  day. 

•J.  The  man  who  a  strong  ambition  for  prefer- 

ment, if  he  does  not  fall  int-  n  and  servilid/,  i->  in 

danger  of  losing  all  manly  independence. 

3.  For  if  tin-  mi^htv  wm-ks  which  have  been  done  in  thee 
had  been  done  in  6Wom,f  it  would  i  1  unto 

this  day. 

KXIWISE  6. 

Page  32.  Tender  emotion  inrlinr*  th?  r«>  isiny  ilidt. 

1.  And  when  Joseph  came  home  they  brought  him  the 

•  I  have  not  thought  it  necessary  to  give  examples  of  the  cases  in 
which  emphasis  requires  the  fulling  slide  at  the  close  of  a  parenthesis. 

t  Kren  in  Sod^m,  is  the  paraphrase  of  this  emphasis,  and  so  in  the 
two  preceding  examples 


Ex.  6.]  EXERCISES    ON    INFLECTION.  89 

present  which  was  in  their  hand,  into  the  house,  and  bowed 
themselves  to  him,  to  the  earth.  And  lie  asked  them  of 
their  welfare,  and  said,  Is  your  father  well,  the  old  man  of 
whom  ye  spake  ?  Is  he  yet  alive  ? — And  they  answered, 
Thy  servant  Qur  father  is  in  good  health,  he  is  yet  alive : 
and  they  bowed  down  thejr  heads,  and  made  obeisance.- — 
And  he  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  saw  his  brother  Benjamin, 
his  mother's  son,  and  said,  Is  this  your  younger  brother,  of 
whom  ye  spake  unto  me  ?  And  he  said,  God  be  gracious 
unto  thee,  my  son. — And  Joseph  made  haste  ;  for  his  bowels 
did  yearn  upon  his  brother :  and  he  sought  where  to  weep ; 
and  he  entered  into  his  chamber,  and  wept  there. 


2.  Methinks  I  see  a  fair  and  lovely  child, 
Sitting  compos'd  upon  his  mother's  knee, 
And  reading  with  a  low  and  lisping  voice 
Some  passage  from  the  Sabbath  ;*  while  the  tears 
5  Stand  in  his  little  eye  so  softly  blue, 

Till,  quite  o'ercome  with  pity,  his  white  arms 
He  twines  around  her  neck,  and  hides  his  sighs 
Most  infantine,  within  her  gladden'd  breast, 
Like  a  sweet  lamb,  half  sportive,  half  afraid, 

10  Nestling  one  moment  'neath  its  bleating  dam. 
And  now  the  happy  mother  kisses  oft 
The  tender-hearted  child,  lays  down  the  book, 
And  asks  him  if  he  doth  remember  still 
A  stranger,  who  once  gave"liim,  long  ago, 

1 5  A  parting  kiss,  and  blest  his  laughing  eyes ! 
His  sobs  speak  fond  remembrance,  and  he  weeps 
To  think  so  kind  and  good  a  man  should  die. 


3.  Ye  who  have  anxiously  and  fondly  watched 
Beside_a  fading  friend,  xinconscious  that 
The  cheek's  bright  crimson,  lovely  to  the  view, 
Like  nightshade  with  unwholesome  beauty  bloomed, 
5  And  that  the  sufferer's  bright  dilated  eye, 
Like  mouldering  wood,  owes  to  decay  alone 
Its  wondrous  lustre : — ye  who  still  have  hoped, 
Even  in  death's  dread  presence,  but  at  length 
Have  heard  the  summons,  (O  heart-freezing  call !) 

*  Sabbath, —  a  poem. 


90  KXEBCIsr.b    ON    IV  FLECTION.  [Ej.  0,  7. 

10  To  pay  th«-  Uities,  and  to  ; 

;i  tin-  silent  dwelling's  narrow  lid 
Th<-  tir.-t  earth  thrown,  Nound  deadliest  to  the  Boul  ! — 

r,  strange  delur-ion  !   then,  and  then  al<>: 
Iliijn-  -e.-ms  fi'ivv.T  tied,  and  tin:  dread   pang 
i  linal  separation  to  begin) — 

•••It  all  thi> — O  pay  my  verse 
The  mournful  in. -i-d  of  -\mpathy,  and  ..wn, 
Own  with  a  sigh,  the  sombre  picture's  just. 


Page  33.     The   ind  and  its   answer  have  the 

falliu'i  it 

The  interrogative   mark  is   h  /.   to  n-ml'-r  it  significant  of 

iU  office,  in  ilwtinction  from  the  direct  question,  which  turns  the  voice 
upward. 

1.  The  governor  ans\vi-n-d  and  said  unto  them,  Whether 

of  the  twain  will  y»-  that  1  n-leas.-  unto  yi.u  ,.  Tlicy  said, 
I.ar.dilias.  Pilate  said  untu  tlu-rn,  ^'hat  shall  1  do  then 
with  Jesus,  which  is  calk-d  C'hrist^  Th«-y  all  say  unto  him, 
Let  him  be  crucified.  And  the  governor  said,  Why  ,-,  what 
evil  hath  he  done  ^  But  they  cried  out  the  more,  saying, 
Let  him  be  crOciti.-d. 

•J.  Wh'-n-   n<.\v   i-;  th--  splendid  robe  of  the  cdnsu 
Wh.-n'  an-  the  brilliant   torches  ;.      When-  an-   the  aj.; 
and  dunces,  the  feasts  and  entert&inments  i     When  nc  the 
coronets  and  canopies^     Where  the  huxzns   of  the  city,  tin- 
compliments  of  tin-  circn<,  and  the  flattering  acclamations  of 
itore^,      All  the-e  ha\c  {.erished. 

3.  1  hold  it  to  be  an  unquestionable  position,  that  they 
who  duly  appreciate  the  blessings  of  liberty,  revolt  as  much 
from  the  iii  i^in^,  as  fn-in  that  of  enduring,  oppn- 

sion.  How  far  this  was  the  case  with  the  Romans,  you  may 
inquire  of  th"se  nations  that  surrounded  them.  Ask  them, 
•What  iiiMilent  guard  pai  ites,  and  i 

ed   their  strong-holds,,'      They  will   im^\\er.    'A    Unman   le 
gionary.'      I  -What  -,n  :tioner  fat- 

tened by  ti  1  r!othe<l    him-elf  by  their  i 

DOSS  £*  They  will  inform  JTOO,  'A  U'-man  t^uaesidr.'  In- 
(|uire  i.f  them.  '  What  imperious  stranger  issued  to  them  his 


Ex.  7.]  EXERCISES    ON    INFLECTION.  91 

mandates  of  imprisonment  or  confiscation,  of  banishment  or 
death  £  They  will  reply  to  you,  '  A  Roman  Consul.'  Ques- 
tion them,  '  What  haughty  conqueror  led  through  his  city, 
their  nobles  and  kings  in  chains ;  and  exhibited  their  coun- 
trymen, by  thousands,  in  gladiators'  shows,  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  his  fellow  citizens  £  They  will  tell  you  :  '  A  Ro- 
man General.'  Require  of  them,  '  What  tyrants  imposed 
the  heaviest  yoke  i — enforced  the  most  rigorous  exactions  £ 
— inflicted  the  most  savage  punishments,  and  showed  the 
greatest  gust  for  blood  and  torture  £  They  will  exclaim  to 
you,  '  The  Roman  people.' 

•  4.  Let  us  now  consider  the  principal  point,  whether  the 
place  where  they  encountered  was  most  favorable  to  Milo^ 
or  to  Clodius.  Were  the  affair  to  be  represented  only  by 
painting,  instead  of  being  expressed  by  words,  it  would  even 
then  clearly  appear  which  was  the  traitor,  and  which  was 
free  from  all  mischievous  designs.  When  the  one  was  sit- 
ting in  his  chariot,  muffled  up  in  his  cloak,  and  his  wife 
along  with  him ;  which  of  these  circumstances  was  not  a 
very  great  incumbrance  £  the  dress,  the  chariot,  or  the  com- 
panion £  How  could  he  be  worse  equipped  for  engagement, 
when  he  was  wrapt  up  in  a  cloak,  embarrassed  with  a  char- 
iot, and  almost  fettered  by  his  wife  £  Observe  the  other  now, 
in  the  first  place,  sallying  out  on  a  sudden  from  his  seat ;  for 
what  reason  £ — in  the  evening ;  what  urged  him  £ — late  ;  to 
what  purpose,  especially  at  that  season  <, — He  calls  at  Pom- 
pey's  seat :  with  what  view  £  To  see  Pompey  ?  He  knew 
he  was  at  Alsium. — To  see  his  house  ?  He  had  been  in  it 
a  thousand  times — What  then  could  be  the  reason  of  this 
loitering  and  shifting  about  £  He  wanted  to  be  upon  the 
spot  when  Milo  came  up. 


5.  Wherefore  cease  we  then  £ 
Say  they  who  counsel  war,  we  are  decreed, 
Reserved,  and  destin'd  to  eternal  woe  ; 
Whatever  doing,  what  can  we  suffer  more, 
5  What  can  we  suffer  worse  ;,     Is  this  then  worst, 
Thus  sitting,  thus  consulting,  thus  in  arms  ? 
What !  when  we  fled  amain,  pursued  and  struck 
With  heav'n's  afflicting  thunder,  and  besought 
The  deep  to  shelter  us — this  Hell  then  seem'd 
10  A  refuge  from  those  wounds  :  or  when  we  lay 


KXEK  I     I  \rt.Lfi  [Kx.  7,  8. 

Chain'd  «:\  th«-  burning  lake, — that  sure  was  worse. 
What,  it"  tin-  breath,  that  kindled  those  grim  fires, 
Awak'd,  should  blow  them  into  sev'nfold  rage, 
And  plunge  u-  in  tin-  tlarnes  ;,  or  from  above 
-  .ould  intermitted  \rngeam-e  ana  again 
Hi>  ml  right-hand  to  pl.i^ue  u^ '.'  what  if  all 
Her  stores  were  open'd,  and  this  firmament 
Of  Hell  should  snout  her  cataracts  of  tin-, 
Impendent  horrors,  threat'ning  hideous  fall 

20  One  day  upon  our  heads  ;    while  we  perhaps, 
Designing  or  exhorting  glorious  war, 
Caught  in  a  fiery  tempest,  shall  be  hurl'd, 
Each  on  his  rock  transfix'd,  the  sport  and  prey 
Of  wracking  whirlwinds;  or  forever  sunk 

25  Under  yon  boiling  ocean,  wrapt  in  chains; 
There  to  converse  with  everlasting  groans, 
Unrespited,  unpitied,  unreprfev'd, 
Ages  of  hopeless  end !     This  would  be  worse. 

Milton. 

6.  But,  first,  whom  shall  we  send 
In  search  of  the  new  world  ~b  whom  shall  we  find 
Sufficient  i  who  shall  tempt  with  wand'ring  feet 
The  dark  unbottom'd  infinite  abyss, 
5  And  through  the  palpable  obscure  find  out 
His  uncouth  way,  and  spread  his  airy  flight, 
Upborne  with  indefatigable  wings, 
Over  the  vast  abrupt,  ere  he  arrive 
The  happy  isle  £  what  strength,  what  art  can  then 

10  Suffice,  or  what  evasion  bear  him  safe 

Through  the  strict  senteries  and  stations  thick 
Of  Angels  watching  round  ^  Here  he  had  need 
All  circumspection,  and  we  now  no  less 
Choice  in  our  suffrage  ;  for  on  whom  we  send, 

15  The  weight  of  all,  and  our  last  hope,  relies.     Milton. 


FAI'RCISE  8. 

Page  34.  Language  of  u>  of  surprise,  and   of  du- 

trett,  common  •?  the  fulling  inflection.     Denun- 

ciation, reprehension,  <kc.,  come  under  thit  head. 

1.  Go  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard  ;  ron-id«T  her  way*,  and 


Ex.  8.]  EXERCISES    ON    INFLECTION.  93 

be  wise : — which  having  no  guide,  overseer,  or  ruler,  pro- 
videth  her  meat  in  the  summer,  and  gathereth  her  food  ia 
the  harvest.  How  long  wilt  thou  sleep,  0  sluggard  ?  when 
wilt  thou  arise  out  of  thy  sleep  ? — Yet  a  little  sleep,  a  little 
slumber,  a  little  folding  of  the  hands  to  sleep  : — So  shall  thy 
poverty  come  as  one  that  travaileth,  and  thy  want  as  an  arm- 
ed man. 

2.  And  when  the  king  came  in  to  see  the  guests,  he  saw 
there  a  man  that  had  not  on  a  wedding-garment : — And  he 
saith  unto  him,  Friend,  how  earnest  thou  in  hither,  not  having 
a   wedding-garment  ?     And  he  was  speechless. — Then  said 
the  king  to  the  servants,  Bind  him,  hand  and  foot,  and  take 
him  away,  and  cast  him  into  outer  darkness  :  there  shall  be 
weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth. 

3.  Then  he  which  had  received  the  one  talent  came,  and 
said,   Lord,  I  knew  thee,  that  thou  art  a  hard  man,  reap- 
ing where  thou  hast  not  sown,  and  gathering  where  thou 
hast  not  strewed : — And  I  was  afraid,  and  went  and  hid  thy 
talent  in  the  earth  :   lo,  there  thou  hast  that  is  thine. — His 
lord  answered  and  said  unto  him,  Thou  wicked  and  slothful 
servant, — thou  kne west  that  I  reap  where  I  sowed  not,*  and 
gather  where  I  have  not  strewed  : — Thou  oughtest  therefore 
to  have  put  my  money  to  the  exchangers,  and  then  at  my 
coming  I  should  have  received  mine  own  with  usury.     Take 
therefore  the  talent  from  him,  and  give  it  unto  him  which 
hath  ten  talents. — And  cast  ye  the  unprofitable  servant  into 
outer  darkness :  there   shall  be  weeping   and  gnashing  of 
teeth. 

4.  Then  began  he  to  upbraid  the  cities  wherein  most  of 
his  mighty  works  were  done,  because  they  repented  not. — 
Wo  unto  thee,  Chorazin !  wo  unto  thee,  Bethsaida !  for  if 
the  mighty  works  which  were  done  in  you,  had  been  done 
in  Tyre  and  Sidon,f  they  would  have  repented  long  ago  in 
sackcloth  and  ashes. — But  I  say  unto  you,  It  shall  be  more 
tolerable  for  Tyre  and   Sidon  at  the  day  of  judgment  than 
for   you.     And    thou  Capernaum,   which   art   exalted  unto 
heaven,  shall  be  brought  down  to  hell :  for  if  the  mighty 
works  which   have   been   done   in  thee,  had  been  done  in 


*  This  clause  uttered  with  a  high  note  and  the  falling  slide,  expresses 
censure  better  with  the  common  punctuation,  than  if  it  were  marked 
with  the  interrogation. 

f  Even  in  Tyre  and  Sulon,  is4he  paraphrase  of  the  emphasis. 


«.)  I  ( Kx.  8. 

Sodom,  it  would  have  remained  until  tin's  day. — But  I  say 
nnto  you,  That  it  shall  be  more  tolerable  for  the  land  of 
Sodom  in  the  day  of  judgment,  th;m  for  thee. 

5.  Such,  sir,  was  once  tin-  •>   of  a  people,  who 

now  surround  your  throne  \\ith  reproaches  and  complaints. 
Do  justice  to  yourself.  Banish  from  your  mind  those  un- 
worthy opinions,  with  which  some  intere.-ted  persons  have 
labored  to  posse-s  \«u.  intrust  the  nn-n  who  tell  you 
that  the  Knulish  are  naturally  li^lit  and  inconstant  ;  that 
•  •mplain  without  a  cadse.  Withdraw  your  confidence 
equally  from  all  parties  ;  from  ministers,  favorites,  and  rela- 
tions;  and  let  there  be  one  moment  in  your  life,  in  which 
you  have  consulted  your  own  understanding. 


0.  You  have  dune  that,  you  should  be  sorry  for. 

There  is  no  terror,  Ca~»iu>.  in  your  threats  ;_ 

For  I  am  arm'd  so  strong  in  lion. 

That  they  pass  by  me  as  the  idle  wind, 
'uich  I  respect  not.     1  did  send  to  }<>u 

For  certain  sum>  of  gold,  which  you  denied  me — 

For  I  can  raise  no  money  by  \ile  inc.. 

1  had  rather  coin  my  1.- 

And  drop  my  blood  for  drachmas,  than  to  wring 
10  From  the  hard  hands  of  peasants  their  vile  trasn 

By  any  indirection.     I  did  send 

To  you  for  gold  to  pay  my  legions, 

"Which  you  denied  m«- :  :  done  like  Cassiut* 

Should  /  have  answered  C'aius  Cassius  so? 
15  When  Marcus  Brutus  grows  so  covetous, 

To  lock  such  rascal  counters  from  his  friends, 

*  p.  _"ds,  with^ill  your  thunderb<~ 

Dash  him  to  pie<  •  yxare. 

7.  The  war,  that  for  a  spare  did  fail, 
Now  trebly  thundering  swell'd  the  gale, 

And— Stanley .'  was  the  cry; — 
.     A  light  on  Marmion's  visage  spread, 
And  fired  his  glazing  eye  : 


•  The  reader  will  otacrvr,  thnt  the  notation  U  more  various,  as  the 
rxamples  become  longer,  including  man  variety  of  rhetorical 


Ex.  8.]  EXERCISES    OX    INFLECTION.  95 

With  dying  hand,  above  his  head,     . 
He  shook  the  fragment  of  his  blade, 

And  shouted — "  Victory  ! 
Charge,  Chester,  charge!  on,  Stanley,  onf" 
Were  the  last  words  of  Marmion  ! 


8.  So  judge  thou  still,  presumptuous  ! — till  the  wrath 
Which  thou  incurr'st  by  flying,  meet  thy  flight, 
Sev'nfold,  and  scourge  that  wisdom  back  to  Hell, 
Which  taught  thee  yet  no  better,  that  no  pain 
5  Can  equal  anger  infinite  provok'd. 

But  wherefore  thou  alone  ?  wherefore  with  thee 
Came  not  all  ffdll  broke  loose  ?  is  pain  to  them 
Less  pain,  less  to  be  fled  ?  or  thou  than  they 
Less  hardy  to  endure  ?     Courageous  Chief ! 
10  The  first  in  flight  from  pain  t — hadst  thou  alleged 
To  thy  deserted  host  this  cause  of  flight, 
Thou  surely  hadst  not  come  sole  fugitive. 

Milton. 


9.  To  whom  the  warrior  Angel  soon  replied. 

To  say,  and  straight  unsay,  pretending  first 

Wise  to  fly  pain,  professing  next  the  spy, 

Argues  no  leader,  but  a  liar,  trac'd, 
5  Satan  ! — and  couldst  thou  faithful  add  ?     0  name, 

O  sacred  name  of  faithfulness  profan'd  ! 

Faithful  to  whom  ?  to  thy  rebellious  crew  ? 

Army  of  Fiends  ! — fit  body  to  fit  head  ! 

Was  this  your  discipline  and  faith  engag'd, 
10  Your  military  obedience,  to  dissolve 

Allegiance  to  th'  acknowledg'd  Pow'r  supreme  ? 

And  thou,  sly  hypocrite,  who  now  wouldst  seem 

Patron  of  liberty,  who  more  than  thou 

Once  fawn'd,  and  cring'd,  and  servilely  ador'd 
15  Heav'n's  awful  Monarch?  wherefore,  but  in  hope 

To  dispossess  him,  and  thyself  to  reign. 

But  mark  what  I  areed  thee  now  ; — A  vaunt : 

Fly  thither  whence  thou  fled'st :  if  from  this  hour, 

Within  these  hallow'd  limits  thou  appear, 
20  Back  to  th'  infernal  pit  I  drag  thee  chained. 

And  seal  thee  so,  as  henceforth  not  to  scorn 

The  facile  gates  of  Hell,  too  slightly  barr'd.         Milton. 


96  KXKRCltJE*  ON    IN:  [Ex.8. 

Apostrophe  and  exclamation,  an  well  a*  the  imperative  mode  when 
accompanied  by  emphauia,  incline  the  voice  to  the  falling  inflection. 

10.  Oh  !  deep-enchanting  prelude  to  repose, 

The  dawn  of  bliss,  the  twilight  of  our  woes ! 

Yet  half  I  hear  the  panting  spirit  sigh, 

It  is  a  dread  and  awful  thing  to  die ! 
5  Mysterious  worlds !  untravel'd  by  the  sun, 

Where  Time's  far  wandering  tide  hits  never  run, 

From  your  unfathom'd  shades,  and  viewless  spheres, 

A  warning  comes,  unheard  by  other  ears — 

'Tis  heaven's  commanding  trumpet,  long  and  loud, 
10  Like  Sinai's  thunder,  pealing  frum  the  cloud  ! 
Daughter  of  Faith,  awake  !  arise  '  illume 

The  dread  unknown,  the  i-h.t->s  «>f  the  tomb ! 

Melt,  and  dispel,  ye  spectre  doubts,  that  roll 

Cimmerian  darkness  on  the  parting  soul ! 
15  Fty,  like  the  moon-e\  »•<!  In-mid  of  dismay, 

Chased  on  his  night-steed,  by  the  star  of  day! 

The  strife  is  o'er! — the  pangs  of  nature  close, 

And  life's  last  rupture  triumphs  o'er  her  woes  ! 

11. irk!  as  the  spirit  eyes,  with  t-agle  gaze, 
20  The  noon  of  heaven,  undaz/led  by  the  blaze, 

On  heavenly  winds  that  waft  her  l"  : 

Float  the  sweet  tax  lx>rn  melody; 

Wild  ;LS  the  hallow'd  anthem  sent  to  hail 

Bethlehem's  shepherds  in  the  lonely  > 
25  When  Jordan  hush'd  lu>  waves,  anil  midnight  still 

Watch'd  on  the  holv  towers  uf  Zi<m  hill ! 

Cornell. 


11.  Piety  has  found 

Is  in  the  Friends  of  science,  and  true  prayer 
Has  flow'd  from  lips  wet  with  Castalian  dews. 
Such  was  thy  VWKNB,  Xewton,  child-like  sage! 
5  Sagacious  reader  of  the  Works  of  God, 
And  in  his  Word  sagacious.     Such  too  tl. 
Milton,  who-  .'•  wings, 

And  fed  on  manna.     And  such  thhie,  in  whom 
Our  /  :••(]  with  just  cause, 

10  Immortal  //<//<  .'  for  deep  discern m cut  prais'd, 
And  sound  integrity,  not  more,  than  fam'd 
For  sanctity  of  manners  undefil'd. 


x.  8.]  EXERCISES    ON    INFLECTION.  97 

12.  These  are  thy  glorious  works,  Parent  of  good, 
Almighty,  thine  this  universal  frame, 
Thus  wond'rous  fair  ;  thyself  how  wond'rous  then  ! 
Unspeakable,  who  sitt'st  above  these  heav'ns 
5  To  us  invisible,  or  dimly  seen 

In  these  thy  lowest  works ;  yet  these  declare 
Thy  goodness  beyond  thought,  and  pow'r  divine. 
Speak,  ye  who  best  can  tell,  ye  sons  of  light, 
Angels ;  for  ye  behold  him,  and  with  songs 

10  And  choral  symphonies,  day  without  night, 
Circle  his  throne  rejoicing ;  ye  in  Heaven, 
On  earth,  join  all  ye  creatures  to  extol 
Him  first,  him  last,  him  midst,  and  without  end. 
Fairest  of  stars,  last  in  the  train  of  night, 

15  If  better  thou  belong  not  to  the  dawn, 

Sure  pledge  of  day,  that  crown'st  the  smiling  morn 
With  thy  bright  circlet,  praise  him  in  thy  sphere, 
While  day  arises,  that  sweet  hour  of  prime. 
Thou  Sun,  of  this  great  world  both  eye  and  soul, 

20  Acknowledge  him  thy  greater,  sound  his  praise 
In  thy  eternal  course,  both  when  thou  climb'st, 
And  when  high  noon  hast  gain'd,  and  when  thou  fall 'si. 
Moon,  that  now  meet'st  the  orient  Sun,  now  fly'st, 
With  the  fix'd  stars,  fix'd  in  their  orb  that  flies, 

25  And  ye  five  pther  wand'ring  Fires,  that  move 
In  mystic  dance,  not  without  song,  resound 
His  praise,  who  out  of  darkness  call'd  up  light. 
Air,  and  ye  Elements,  the  eldest  birth 
Of  nature's  womb,  that  in  quaternion  run 

30  Perpetual  circle,  multiform ;  and  mix, 

And  nourish  all  things,  let  your  ceaseless  change 
Vary  to  our  great  Maker  still  new  praise. 
His  praise,  ye  Winds,  that  from  four  quarters  blow, 
Breathe  soft  or  loud ;  and  wave  your  tops,  ye  pines, 

35  "W  ith  every  plant,  in  sign  of  worship,  wave. 
Fountains,  and  ye  that  warble  as  ye  flow, 
Melodious  murmurs,  warbling,  tune  his  praise. 
Join  voices  all,  ye  living  Souls ;  ye  Birds, 
That  singing,  up  to  Heaven's  gate  ascend, 

40  Bear  on  your  wings,  and  in  your  notes  his  praise. 

Milton. 


98  EXERCISES    ON    INFLECTION.  [Ex.  9. 


Page  85.     Emphatic   succession  of  particulars   requires   the 

f  a  I  liny  Si 

Notes  1  and  2,  page  35,  should  be  examined  before  reading  this  claM  of 
Exercue*. 

'  1.  He  answered  and  said  unto  them.  He  that  soweth  the 
good  seed  is  the  Son  ..i'  man  ;—  the  field  is  the  world;  the 
good  seed  are  the  children  of  the  kingdom:  but  the  tares 
are  the  children  of  the  wicked  one  ;  —  the  enemy  that  sowed 
them  is  the  dovil  ;  the  harvest  is  the  end  of  the  world  ;  and 
the  reapers  are  the  ang< 

2.  For  to  one  is  given  by  thf  Spirit  the  word  of  wisdom  ; 
to  another,  the  word  of  knowledge,  by  the  same  Spirit;  — 
to  another,  faith,  by  the  same  Spirit  ;  to  another,  the  gifts 
of  healing,  by    the    .same  Spirit  ;  —  to  another,   the   working 
of  miracles  ;  to  another,   prophecy  ;    to    another,    discerning 
of  spirits;  to  another,  divers  kinds  of  tongues;  to  another, 
the  interpretation  of  ton_ 

3.  Holiness  is  ascribed  to  tin-  1'ope  ;  majesty.  to  kings; 
serenity,  or  mildness  of  temper,  to  prmr.  .«-nce,  or 
perfection,   to    ambassadors;    grace,  to   archbishops;  honor, 
to   peers;  worship,  or  venerable  behavior,  to   magi 

and  reverence,  which  is  of  the  >ame  import  as  the  former,  to 
the  inferior  clergy.  » 

4.  It  pleases  me  to  think  that  I,  who  know  so  small  a 
portion    of  the    works   of    the   Creator,  and    with   .slow   and 
painful  steps,  creep  up    and    down  on  the   surface  of  this 
globe,  shall,  ere  long,  shoot  away  with  the  swiftness  of  im- 
agination ;  trace  out  the   hidden  springs  of  nature's  opera- 
tions ;   be  able  to  keep  pace  with   tin-   heavenly  bodies  in  the 
rapidity  of  their  career  ;  be  a  spectator  of  the  long  chain 
of  events  in  the,  natural  and   moral  worlds;  visit  the  several 
apartments   of  creation;   know    how  they  are   furm-hed    and 
how    inhabited  ;   comprehend    (he    order    and    measure,    the 
magnitude  and  di>tain-e-  of  tl.o-e  orbs,  which,  to  us,  seem 
disposed  without    any  refill;  md  set  all   in  the  same 
circle;  observe  the  dependeOM  ••!'  the  pan*  <•(  each  system; 
and   (if  our  minds  are    |,j_r  riiou;.:  ihe   theory  of  the 
several  system^  upon  ,                            in  whence  results  the 

:    the  Unix- 

6.    He   who  cannot    perv.iade   himself   to   withdraw   from 
society,  must  be  content  to  pay  a  tribute  of  his  time  to  a 


Ex.  9,   10.]  EXERCISES    ON    INFLECTION.  99 

multitude  of  tyrants ;  to  the  loiterer,  who  makes  appoint- 
ments he  never  keeps — to  the  consulter,  who  asks  advice 
he  never  takes — to  the  boaster,  who  blusters  only  to  be 
praised — to  the  complainer,  who  whines  only  to  be  pitied — 
to  the  projector,  whose  happiness  is  only  to  entertain  his 
friends  with  expectations,  which  all  but  himself  know  to  be 
vain — to  the  economist,  who  tells  of  bargains  and  settle- 
ments— to  the  politician,  who  predicts  the  fate  of  battles  and 
breach  of  alliances — to  the  usurer,  who  compares  the  differ- 
ent funds — and  to  the  talker,  who  talks  only  because  he  loves 
talking. 

6.  That  a  man,  to  whom  he  was,  in  great  measure,  be- 
holden for  his  crown,  and  even  for  his  life  !  a  man  to  whom, 
by  every  honor  and  favor,  he  had  endeavored  to  express 
his  gratitude ;  whose  brother,  the  earl  of  Derby,  Avas  his  own 
father-in-law ;  to  whom  he  had  even  committed  the  trust  of 
his  person,  by  creating  him  lord  chamberlain ;  that  a  man 
enjoying  his  full  confidence  and  affection ;  not  actuated  by 
any  motive   of  discontent   or   apprehension ;  that  this  man 
should  engage  in  a  conspiracy  against  him,  he  deemed  abso- 
lutely false  and  incredible. 

7.  I  would  fain  ask  one  of  those  bigoted  infidels,  suppos- 
ing all  the  great  points  of  atheism,  as  the  casual  or  eternal 
formation  of  the  world,  the  materiality  of  a  thinking  sub- 
stance, the  mortality  of  the  soul,  the  fortuitous  organization 
of  the  body,  the  motion  and  gravitation  of  matter,  with  the 
like  particulars,  were  laid  together,  and  formed  into  a  kind 
of  creed,  according  to  the  opinions  of  the  most  celebrated 
atheists ;  I  say,  supposing  such  a  creed  as  this  were  formed 
and  imposed  upon  any  one  people  in  the  world,  whether  it 
would  not  require  an  infinitely  greater  measure  of  faith,  than 
any  set  of  articles  tthich  they  so  violently  oppose. 


EXERCISE  7. 

Page  36.     Emphatic  repetition  requires  the  falling  inflection,  ; 

though  the  principle  of  the  suspending  slide,  or  of  it& 

interrogative,  may  form  an  exception. 

1.  And  Abraham  stretched  forth  his  hand,  and  took  the 
knife  to  slay  his  son. —  And  the  angel  of  the  LORD  called 
unto  him  out  of  heaven,  and  said,  Abraham,  ABRAHAM. — 
And  he  said,  Here  am  I. 


100  EXERCISES    ON    IMI.Kc  [F,X.   10. 

2.  And  the  kin::  was  much  moved,  and  went  up  to  th« 
chamber  over  the  gate,  and  wept :  and  as  he  went,  thus  he 
Raid,  O  my  son  Absalom! — my   Mm,   my  son  Absalom! — 
would  God  I  had  died  for  thee,  O  Absalom,  my  son,  my 
son! 

3.  O  Jerusalem,  Jerutalem  ! — thou  that  kille.st  the  pro- 
phets and  stonest  thrin  wliicli  are  sent  unto  thee 1 — how  often 
would  I  have  gathered  thy  children  together,  even  as  a  hen 
gathereth  her  chickens  under  her  wings,  and  yu  would  not? 

4.  But  the  subject  is  too  awful  for  irony.     I  will  speak 
plainly  and  directly.     Newton  was  a  Christian !     Newton, 
whose  mind  burst  forth  from  the  fetters  cast  by  nature  upon 
our  finite  conceptions. — Ntwton,  whose  science  was  truth, 
and  the  foundation  of  whose  knowledge  of  it  was  philoso- 
phy:  not  those  vi.-ionary  and  arrogant  presumptions,  which 
too  often  usurp  its  name,  but  philosophy  resting  upon  the 
basis  of  mathematics,  which,  like  figures,  cannot  lie. — N^to- 
ton,  who  carried  the  line  and  rule  to  the  utmost  barriers  of 
creation,  and  explored  the  principles  by  which,  no  doubt,  all 
created  matter  is  held  together  and  exists. 


5.  To  die,  they  say,  is  noble — as  a  soldier — 
But  with  such  guides,  to  point  th'  unerring  road, 
Such  able  guides,  such  arms  and  discipline 
As  I  have  had,  my  soul  would  sorely  feel 
~>  The  dreadful  pang  which  keen  reflect 

Should  she  it)  death's  dark  porch,  while  life  was  ebbing, 
Receive  the  judgment,  and  this  vile  reproach  :-  - 
"  Long  bast  thou  wander'd  in  a  si  md. 

A  stranger  to  tin  .-elf  and  to  thy  God  ; 

10  The  heavenly  hills  were  oft  within  tUy  view, 
And  oft  the  shepherd  call'd  thee  to  his  flock, 
And  call'd  in  vain. — A  thousand  monitors 
Bade  thee  retOrn,  and  walk  in  wisdom's  ways. 
The  seasons,  as  they  roll'd,  bade  thee  return  ; 

15  The  glorious  sun,  in  his  diurnal  round, 

I  Vh, -Id  thy  wand'ring.  and  bade  rn  ; 

•i  emblem  of  the  night  of  death, 
Bade  thee  return  ;  the  ri-ing  mounds, 
Which  told  tl.  re  the  dead  repose 

20  In  tenemcnU  of  clay,  bade  thee  return  . 
And  at  thy  father's  grave,  the  filial  t< 


Ex.    10,   11.]          EXERCISES    OIV    EMPHASIS.  101 

Which  dear  remembrance  gave,  bade  thee  return, 
And  dwell  in  Virtue's  tents,  on  Zion's  hill ! 
— Here  thy  career  be  stay'd,  rebellious  man ! 
25  Long  hast  thou  liv'd  a  cumberer  of  the  ground. 
Millions  are  shipwreck'd  on  life's  stormy  coast, 
With  all  their  charts  on  board,  and  powerful  aid, 
Because  their  lofty  pride  disdain'd  to  learn 
Th'  instructions  of  a  pilot,  and  a  God." 

On  Cadence,  Circumflex,  and  Accent,  no  additional  illustra- 
tions seem  to  be  required  in  tlie  Exercises. 


EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS. 

It  was  necessary  in  the  rules  to  examine  and  exemplify  the 
difference  between  emphatic  stress,  and  emphatic  inflection, 
and  also  between  absolute  and  relative  stress.  The  exam- 
ples, however,  illustrating  these  distinctions,  must  generally 
be  taken  from  single  sentences  and  clauses.  But  as  I  wish 
here  to  introduce  such  passages  as  have  considerable  length, 
I  have  concluded  to  arrange  t/tem  all  under  the  general 
head  of  EMPHASIS,  leaving  the  reader  to  class  particular 
instances  of  stress,  and  inflection,  according  to  the  princi- 
ples laid  down  page  39  to  47. 

EXERCISE   11. 

1.  He  that  planted  the  ear,  shall  he  not  hear?  he  that 
formed  the  eye,  shall  he  not  sie? — he  that  chastiseth  the 
heathen,  shall  not  he  correct?  he  that  teacheth  man  knowl- 
edge, shall  not  he  know  ? 

2.  The  queen  of  the  south  shall  rise  up  in  the  judgment 
with  the  men  of  this  generation,  and  condemn  them  :  for  she 
came  from  the  utmost  parts  of  the  earth,  to  hear  the  wisdom 
of  Solomon ;  and   behold,  a  greater  than  Solomon  is  here. 
The  men  of  Nineveh  shall  rise  up  in  the  judgment  with  this 
generation,    and    shall    condemn   it ;   for   they   repented   at 
the  preaching  of  Jonas  ;  and  behold,  a  greater  than  Jonas  is 
here. 

3.  But  when   the  Pharisees   heard    it,   they   said,   This 
fellow  doth  not  cast  out  devils,  but  by  Bedhebub,  the  prince 
of  the  devils.     2.  And  Jesus  knew  their  thoughts,  and  said 
unto  them,  Every  kingdom  divided  against  itself,  is  brought 
to  desolation  ;  and  every  city  or  hduse  divided  against  iteSlf 


102  EXERCIM  M.MIVSIS.  [Ex.    11. 

shall  not  stand.     3.  And;  ;  an,  ht  is  divided 

against  himself;  how  shall  then  his  kingdom  stand?  And 
if  I  by  Beelzebub  cast  out  devils,  Jiy  whom  do  your  children 
cast  them  out?  therefore  they  BMU  be  your  judges.  But  if 
least  out  d'-vi!-  liy  the  Sjiir;-  'iirn  tin-  kingdom  of 

God  i-  u.       4.    <  >i  else  how  '  ;m  one  enter  into  ;i 

iiul  -|...|!  •  !<;   In-  first  bind 

the  strong  man  ?  and  then  he  will  spoil  his  house. 

4.  And  behold,  a  certain  lawyer  stood  up,  and  tempted 
him,    saying.    M  i-;.  r.    ui.it    -luili    I    do    to    inherit   eternal 
life?     2.  He  said  unto  him.  What  is  written  in  the  law? 
how  readest  thou?     3.  And  he  answering  said,  Thou  shalt 

he  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy 
soul,  and  with  all  thy  strength,  and  with  all  thy  mind  ;  and 
thy  neighbor  as  thyself.  4.  And  he  said  unto  him,  Thou 
hast  answered  right :  this  do,  and  thou  shalt  live. — But  he, 
willing  to  justify  himself,  said  unto  Jesus,  And  who  it  my 
neighbor?  5.  And  Jesus  answering,  said,  A  certain  man 
went  down  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho,  and  fell  among  thieves, 
which  stripped  him  of  his  raiment,  and  wounded  him,  and 
departed,  leaving  him  half  dead.  6.  And  by  chance  there 
came  down  a  certain  priest  that  way  ;  and  when  he  saw 
him,  he  passed  by  on  the  other  side. — And  likewise  a  Li- 
vite,  when  he  was  at  the  place,  came  and  looked  on  him, 
and  passed  by  on  the  other  side.  7.  But  a  certain  Samaritan, 
as  he  journeyed,  came  where  he  was ;  and  when  he  saw 
him,  he  had  compassion  on  him, — and  >i?i>t  to  him,  and 
bound  up  his  wounds,  pouring  in  oil  and  wine,  and  set  him 
on  his  own  beast,  and  brought  him  to  an  inn,  and  took 
care  of  him.  8.  And  on  the  morrow,  when  he  departed, 
he  took  out  two  pence,  and  ^ave  them  to  the  host,  and  said 
unto  him,  Take  rare  of  him  :  and  whatsoever  thou  spendest 

when    I    come  again,   I    will  repay  thee.     9.   \ 
now  of  tl;'  thinkest   thrtu,  was  ileiyhbor   unto  him 

that  fell  among  the  thieve-'.' — And  he  vnd.  He  ;h.v.  showed 
mtrcy  on  him.  Then  said  Jesus  unto  him,  Go,  and  do  th'-u 
likewise. 

5.  For  if  you  now  pnn.  :t.  as  my  publir  conduct 
h;it Is    i                                     -iphon   must  stand  condemi 
nin^t    he  thought   th.v 

^resent  state  i-,   the  <-;ipti.-,-  <>t~  fortune.      Hut 
it   cannot  W.     Jfd,  my   countrymen f     It    cannot   h 
hare  acted  wrong,  in  encountering  danger  bravely,  for  tin- 


Ex.    11,   12.]  EXERCISES    ON    EMPHASIS.  103 

liberty  and  safety  of  all  Greece.  No  !  By  those  generous 
souls  of  ancient  times,  who  were  exposed  at  Marathon ! 
By  those  who  stood  arrayed  at  Platea  !  By  those  who  en- 
countered the  Persian  fleet  at  Sdlamis  !  who  fought  at  Ar- 
temisium!  By  all  those  illustrious  sons  of  Athens  whose 
remains  lie  deposited  in  the  public  monuments  !  All  of 
whom  received  the  same  honorable  interment  from  their 
country  :  Not  those  only  who  prevailed,  not  those  only  who 
were  victorious.  And  with  reason.  What  was  the  part  of 
gallant  men  they  all  performed ;  their  success  was  such  as 
the  Supreme  Director  of  the  world  dispensed  to  each. 

EXERCISE  12. 
Like  other  tyrants,  death  delights  to  smite, 

What,  smitten,  most  proclaims  the  pride  of  p6w'r, 

And  arbitrary  nod.     His  joy  supreme, 

To  bid  the  wretch  survive  the  fortunate  ; 
5  The  feeble  wrap  the  athletic  in  his  shroud  ; 

And  weeping  fathers  build  their  children's  tomb  : 

Mt,  thine,  NARCISSA  ! — What  though  short  thy  date  ? 

Virtue,  not  rolling  suns,  the  mind  matures. 

That  life  is  long,  which  answers  life's  great  &nd. 
10  The  tree  that  bears  no  fruit,  deserves  no  name  : 

The  man  of  wisdom,  is  the  man  of  years. 

NARCISSA'S  youth  has  lectur'd  me  thus  far. 

And  can  her  gayety  give  counsel  too  ? 

That,  like  the  Jew's  fam'd  oracle  of  gems, 
15  Sparkles  instruction  ;  such  as  throws  new  light, 

And  opens  more  the  character  of  death  ; 

111  known  to  thee,  LORENZO  :    This  thy  vaunt ; 

"  Give  death  his  due,  the  wretched,  and  the  old  ; 

"  Let  him  not  violate  kind  nature's  laws, 
20  "  But  own  man  born  to  live  as  well  as  die." 

Wretched  and  old  thou  givest  him  ;  young  and  gay 

He  takes  ;  and  plunder  is  a  tyrant's  joy. 
*  Fortune,  with  youth  and  gayety  conspir'd 

To  weave  a  triple  wreath  of  happiness, 
25  (If  happiness  on  earth,)  to  crown  her  brow, 

And  could  death  charge  through  such  a  shining  shield  ? 

That  shining  shield  invites  the  tyrant's  spear ; 

As  if  to  damp  our  elevated  aims, 

*  In  this  place,  and  in  many  others,  the  connection  of  the  author  ia 
broken  in  the  selections,  without  notice. 


104  KIKRUSK*    ON     IkMrHASJB.          [Ex.    12,    13. 

And  strongly  preach  humility  to  man. 
0  how  portentous  is  prospei 
How,  comet-likf,  it  ilr  iiile  it  shines! 

Few  years  hut  yield  us  proof  of  death's  ambition. 
6  To  cull  his  victims  from  the  fairest  fold, 
And  sheath  his  shafts  in  all  the  pride  of  life. 
When  llooded  with  abundance,  and  purpled  o'er 
With  recent  honors,  bloom'd  with  every  bliss, 
Set  up  in  ostentation,  made  the  gaze, 

10  The  gaudy  center,  of  the  pur 

When  fortune  thus  has  toss'd  her  child  in  air, 
Snatch'd  from  the  covert  of  an  humble  state, 
How  often  have  I  seen  him  drdpp'd  at  once, 
Our  morning's  6nvy  !  and  our  ev'ning's  sigh  ! 

16       Death  loves  a  shining  mark,  a  signal  blow  ; 
A  blow,  which,  while  i:  .  alarms; 

And  startles  thousands  with  a  single  fall. 
(0)  As  when  some  st&tely  growth  of  oak  or  pine, 
Which  nods  aloft  and  proudly  spreads  her  si 

20  The  sun's  defiance,  and  the  flock  s  defense  ; 
By  the  strong  strdkes  of  lab'rinrr  hinds  subdu'd 
Loud  groans  ner  last,  and  rushing  from  her  height, 
In  cumb'rous  ruin,  thunder  to  the  ground  : 
The  conscious  forest  trembles  at  the  shock, 

ii5  And  hill,  and  stream,  and  distant  dale  resound.* 


EXERCISE  13. 

Genius  and  art,  ambition's  boasted  wings, 
Our  boast  but  ill  deserve.  - 


-If  these  alone 


Assist  our  flight,  fame  s  fight  is  glory's  fall. 
80  j&arl-merit  wanting,  mount  we  ne'er  so  high, 

Our  Illicit  is  hut  tin-  gibbet  of  our  name. 

I  behold, 

Win  n  1  behold  a  genius,  bright,  and  base, 
Of  towVin^  talfiits,  amH'Trotrial  aims; 
35  Methinks  :hr«>\v*n  from  her  high  Bph«-r<\ 

•us  fra^ni'  -"ill  immortal. 

With  rubhi-.li  mi.xt,  and  glittering  in  the  dust. 
Struck  at  the  splendid,  mela  ;ht, 

•   In  the  following   Kxerriatc.  thr  mnrk*  of  modulation  «r* 

ally  VIM*! 


Ex.  13.]        EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.  105 

At  once  compassion  soft,  and  envy  rise 

But  wherefore  envy  ?     Talents  angel-bright, 

If  wanting  worth,  are  shining  instruments 

In  false  ambition's  hand,  to  finish  faults 
6  Illustrious,  and  give  infamy  renown. 

Great  ill  is  an  achievement  of  great  pdw'rs. 

Plain  sense  but  rarely  leads  us  far  astray. 

Means  have  no  merit,  if  our  2nd  amiss. 

Hearts  are  proprietors  of  all  applause. 
10  Right  ends,  and  means,  make  wisdom  :  Worldly-wise 

Is  but  hdlf-vtitied,  at  its  highest  praise. 

Let  genius  then  despair  to  make  thee  great ; 

Nor  flatter  station  :  What  Is  station  high  ? 

Tis  a  proud  mendicant ;  it  boasts  and  begs  ; 
15  It  begs  an  alms  of  homage  from  the  throng, 

And  oft  the  throng  denies  its  charity. 

Monarchs  and  ministers,  are  awful  names  ; 

Whoever  wear  them,  challenge  our  devoir. 

Religion,  public  order,  both  exact 
20  External  homage,  and  a  supple  knee, 

To  beings  pompously  set  up,  to  serve 

The  meanest  slave  ;  all  more  is  merit's  due, 

Her  sacred  and  inviolable  right, 

Nor  ever  paid  the  monarch,  but  the  man, 
25  Our  hearts  ne'er  bow  but  to  superior  worth: 

Nor  ever  fail  of  their  allegiance  there. 

Fools,  indeed,  drop  the  man  in  their  account, 

And  vote  the  mantle  into  majesty. 

Let  the  small  savage  boast  his  silver  fur ; 
30  His  royal  robe  unborrow'd  and  unbought, 

His  dwn,  descending  fairly  from  his  sires. 

Shall  man  be  proud  to  wear  his  livery, 

And  souls  in  ermine  scorn  a  soul  without  ? 

Can  place  or  lessen  us,  or  aggrandize  ? 
35  Pigmies  are  pigmies  still,  though  perch'd  on  Xlps  ; 

And  pyramids  are  pyramids  in  vales. 

Each  man  makes  his  ozw»8tatue,  builds  himself, 

Virtue  alone  outbuilds  the  pyramids  : 

Her  monuments  shall  last  when  Egypt's  fall. 
40  Thy  bosom  burns  for  pow'r  ; 

What  station  charms  thee  ?     I'll  install  thee  there  ; 

'Tis  thine.     And  art  thou  greater  than  before  ? 


106  EXERCISES    ON     EMPHASIS.  [Ev    13,  14. 

Then  thou  before  was  s  'egg  than  man. 

Has  thv  new  post  betray'd  thee  into  pride? 

That  treach'rous  pride  betrays  thy  dignity  ; 

That  pride  defames  human:  ills 

5  The  being  mean,  which  stitjf'x  or  stnn:i*  ran  raise. 

High  icdrth  is  elevated  place  >re  ; 

It  makes  the  post  stand  candidate  for  ; 

Makes  more  than  munarchs,  makes  an  honett  mdn ; 

Though  no  exchequer  it  commands,  'tis  wealth  ; 
19  And  though  it  wears  no  ribin,  'tis  renown  : 

Renown,  that  would  not  quit  thee,  though  disgrac'd, 

Nor  leave  thee  pendent  on  a  master's  smile. 

Other  ambition  nature  inten: 

Nature  proclaims  it  most  a  I. Mini  in  man, 
15   Hy  pointing  at  his  origin,  and  end  ; 

Milk,  and  a  swathe,  at  first  his  whole  demand  ; 

His  whole  domain,  at  last,  a  turf,  or  stone; 

To  whom,  between,  a  world  may  seem  too  small. 

Young. 


K\I:KCISK  \.\. 

Ambition  !  pow'rful  source  of  good  and  ill  ! 
20  Thy  strength  in  man,  like  length  of  wing  in  birds, 
When  dbengag'd  from  earth,  with  greater  ease 
And  swifter  flight  transports  u*  to  the  skies ; 
By  toys  entangled,  or  in  guilt  bemir'd. 
It  turns  a  citrte  ;  it  is  our  chain,  and  sc.mn 
25  In  this  dark  dungeon,  where  confined  we  lie, 
Close  grated  by  the  sordid  bars  of  sense ; 
All  prospect  of  eternity  shut  out  ; 

!.  but  for  execution,  ne'er  set  free. 
In  spite  i if  all  the  truths  the  muse  has  sung, 
30  Ne'er  to  be  pri/'d  enough  !   enough  re\<.l\\l  ' 

there  who  wraji  the  \\.-rld  .-<  .lit  them, 

They  see  no  farther  than  the  clouds  ?  and  dance 
On  heedless  vanity's  fantastic  toe? 
Till,  stumbling  at  a  straw,  in  th-  i 

35  Headlong  they  piling,  where  end  both  dance  and  song. 
\r<-  then-  on  earth,—  !  call  them  men,) 

Who  lodge  a  soul  immortal  n.  asts  ; 

Conscious  as  the  mountain  of  its  ore  ; 
Or  rock,  of  its  inestimable  gem? 
40  When  rocks  shall  melt,  and  mountains  vanish,  these 


Ex.  14,  15.]     EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.  107 

Shall  know  their  treasure ;  treasure,  then,  no  more. 

Are  there,  (still  more  amazing  !)  who  resist 
The  rising  thought  ?     Who  smother,  in  its  birth, 
The"  glorious  truth  ?     Who  struggle  to  be  brutes  ? 
5  Who  through  this  bosom-barrier  burst  their  way, 
And,  with  revers'd  ambition,  strive  to  sink? 
Who  labor  downwards,  through  th'  opposing  pow'r 
Of  instinct,  reason,  and  the  world  against  them, 
To  dismal  hopes,  and  shelter  in  the  shock 

10  Of  endless  night?  night  darker  than  the  graVe's  ! 
Who  fight  the  proofs  of  immortality  ? 
With  horrid  zeal,  and  execrable  arts, 
Work  all  their  energies,  level  their  black  fires, 
To  blot  from  man  this  attribute  divine, 

15  (Than  vital  blood  far  dearer  to  the  wise,) 

Blasphemers,  and  rank  atheists  to  themselves  ? 

Young. 

EXERCISE   15. 

He  ceas'd ;  and  next  him  Moloch,  scepter'd  king, 
Stood  up ;  the  strongest  and  fiercest  spirit 
That  fought  in  Heav'n,  now  fiercer  by  despair : 

20  His  trust  was  with  th'  Eternal  to  be  deem'd 
Equal  in  strength,  and  rather  than  be  less, 
Cared  not  to  be  at  all ;  with  that  care  lost 
Went  all  his  fear :  of  God,  or  Hell,  or  worse, 
He  reck'd  not,  and  these  words  thereafter  spake. 

25       "  My  sentence  is  for  open  war  ;  of  wiles, 
More  unexpert,  /  boast  not ;  them  let  those 
Contrive  who  need,  or  when  they  need  not  now  ; 
For,  while  they  sit  contriving,  shall  the  rest, 
Millions  that  stand  in  arms,  and,  longing,  wait 

30  The  signal  to  ascend,  sit  lingering  here, 

Heav'n's  fugitives,  and  for  their  dwelling  place 
Accept  this  dark  opprobrious  den  of  shame, 
The  prison  of  his  tyranny  who  reigns 
By  our  delay  ?     No,  let  us  rather  choose, 

35  Arm'd  with  Hell-flames  and  fury,  all  at  once, 
O'er  Heav'n's  high  tow'rs  to  force  resistless  way, 
Turning  our  tortures  into  horrid  arms, 
Against  the  Torturer ;  when,  to  meet  the  noise 
Of  his  almighty  engine,  he  shall  hear 

40  Infernal  thunder,  and  for  lightning  see 


108  EXERCISER  ox   EMPHASIS.       [Ex.  15   If. 

Black  fin  and  horror,  shot  with  equal  rage 

Among  lu>  Angels  anil  his  throne  itself, 

Mix'd  wiili  Tartan-an  sulphur,  and  strange  fire, 

His  o\vn  invented  torments.      (0)   But  perhaps 
S  The  way  seems  difficult  and  >:•  ••)>,  to  scale 

With  upright  wing  again>l  a  higher  I 

Let  them  bethink  them,  it"  the  sleepy  drench 

Of  that  forgetful  lake  la-numb  not  still, 

That  in  our  proper  in- it  ion  we  ascend 
10  Up  to  our  native  seat :  descent  and /(ill 

To  us  is  adverse.     Who  but  felt  of  late, 

When  the  fierce  foe  hung  on  our  broken  rear, 

Insulting,  and  pursued  us  through  the  deep, 

With  what  compulsion  and  laborious  lli^lit 
15  We  sunk  thus  low  ?     Th'  ascent  is  easy  then. 

Th'  iri-/it  i>  i'ear'd  :   should  we  again  provoke 

Our  stronger,  some  worse  way  his  wrath  may  find 

To  our  destruction,  if  there  be  in  Hell 

Fear  to  be  worse  destroy'd.     What  can  be  worse 
20  Than  to  dw<ll  It? re,  driv'n  out  from  bliss,  condemned 

In  this  abhorred  deep  to  utter  woe : 

Wh.-rc  pain  of  inextinguishable  fire 

Must  cxerci-e  u^  without  hope  of  end, 

The  vassals  of  his  anger,  when  the  scourge 
25  Inexorable,  and  the  torturing  hour, 

Calls  us  to  penance  ?     More  destroy'd  than  thu», 

We  should  be  quite  abolish 'd,  and  expire. 

What/"//-  \ve  tli. 'ii  ?  what  doubt  we  to  incense 

His  it! most  ire  ?  which  to  the  height  cnrag'd, 
30  Will  either  quite  consume  us,  and  reduce 

To  nothing  this  essential,  (happier  far, 

Than  miserable,  to  d  being,) 

Or,  if  our  .-ul>  indeed  d: 

And  cannot  cease  to  be,  we  are  at  w< 
35  On  this  .-ide  nothing;  and  b\  feel 

Our  pow'r  sufficient  to  disturb  his  Heaven, 

And  with  perpetual  inroads  to  alarm, 

Though  iri;i.-re-,>ih! 
40  Which  if  not  \  .;e."  '<>n. 

EXERCISI; 

I  should  be  much  fur  np«n  war,  O  peer* ! 


Ex.    16,  17.]  EXERCISES    ON    EMPIIASIS.  109 

As  not  behind  in  hate,  if  what  was  urg'd, 
Main  reason  to  persuade  immediate  war, 
Di^knot  rfzssuade  me  most,  and  seem  to  cast 
Ominous  conjecture  on  the  whole  success, — 
5  When  he,  who  most  excels  in  feat  of  arms, 
In  what  he  counsels,  and  in  what  excels, 
Mistrustful,  grounds  his  courage  on  despair, 
And  utter  dissolution  as  the  scope 
Of  all  his  aim,  after  some  dire  revenge. 

10  First,  what  revenge?     The  tow'rs  of  Heav'n  are  fill'd 
With  armed  watch,  that  render  all  access 
Impregnable ;  oft  on  the  bord'ring  deep 
Encamp  their  legions,  or,  with  obscure  wing, 
Scout  far  and  wide  into  the  realm  of  night, 

15  Scorning  surprise.     Or  could  we  break  our  way 
"By  force,  and  at  our  heels  all  hell  should  rise, 
With  blackest  insurrection,  to  confound 
Heav'n's  purest  light,  yet  our  great  enemy, 
All  incorruptible,  would  on  his  throne 

20  Sit  unpolluted,  and  th'  ethereal  mould, 
Incapable  of  stain,  would  soon  expel 
Her  mischief,  and  purge  off  the  baser  fire, 
Victorious.     Thus  repuls'd  our  final  hope 
Is  flat  despair  :  we  must  exasperate 

25  Th'  almighty  Victor  to  spend  all  his  rage, 
And  that  must  end  us,  that  must  be  our  cure, 
To  be  no  more  :  sad  cure  ;  for  who  would  lose, 
Though  full  of  pain,  this  intellectual  being, 
Those  thoughts  that  wander  through  eternity, 

30  To  perish  rather,  svvallow'd  up  and  lost 
In  the  wide  womb  of  uncreated  night, 
Devoid  of  sense  and  motion  ?  and  who  knows, 
Let  this  be  good,  whether  our  angry  foe 
Can  give  it,  or  will  ever  ?  how  he  can 

35  Is  doubtful ;  that  he  never  will  is  sure.  Milton. 


EXERCISE   17. 
Aside  the  Devil  turn'd 


For  envy,  yet  with  jealous  leer  malign 
Ey'd  them  askance,  and  to  himself  thus  plain'd. 
"  Sight  hateful,  sight  tormenting  !  thus  these  two 
40  Imparadis'd  in  one  another's  arms, 
The  happier  Eden,  shall  enjoy  their  fill 


110  EXERCISES    ON     EMPHASIS.  [Ex.    17,   18. 


Of  bliss  on  bliss  ;  while  I  to  I  It'll  am  thn. 

\\ii--if  ii.  i'ii.-r  j"\  nor  \--\<\  I  ait  fierce  den 

•  t  tin-  least,)       ^ 

Still  unfultill'd,  with  pain  of  lon^im:  \- 
5  Yet  let  me  not  forget  what  1  have  gain'd 

From  their  own  mouths  :  all  is  not  theirs  it  seems; 

One  fatal  tree  then  :   knowledge  call'd, 

Forbidden  them  to  taste.      Knowledge  forbidden  V 
10  Suspicious,  JIM  Why  should  their  Lord 

Knvy  them  that  .'     Can  it  be  sin  to  know  ? 

Can  it  bo  death  ?  and  do  they  only  stand 

By  ignorance?  is  that  their  happy  state, 

The  pr<>of  of  their  obedience  and  their  faith  ? 
15  O  fair  foundation  laid  whereon  to  build 

Their  ruin  !     Hem-.-  I  will  excite  their  minds 

With  more  de.-ire  to  know,  and  to  reject 

Envious  commands,  invented  with  design 

To  keep  them  low,  whom  knowledge  might  exalt 
20  Equal  with  Gods  :  aspirin*.:  to  he  such, 

They  taste  and  die  ;  w  hat  likelier  can  ensue  ? 

But  fir>t  with  narrow  search  1  must  walk  round 

This  garden,  and  no  corner  lea\e  un>py'd  ; 

A  chance,  hut  chance,  may  lead  where  1  may  r 
25  Some  wand'ring  spirit  of"  Heav'n,  by  fountain  side, 

Or  in  thick  shade  retir'd,  from  him  to  draw 

What  further  would  be  learn'd.     Live  while  ye  may, 

Yet  happy  pair  :  enjoy,  till  I  return, 

Short  ]>'.•  .r  i.  ON.,  WOES  .  .  are  to  succeed." 

30  (°)  So  saying,  his  proud  step  he  scornful  turn'd, 

But  with  sly  circumspection,  and  began, 

Through  wood,  through  w  hill,  o'er  dale  his 

mam.  Milton. 


KXKKMSK    18. 
Page  27,  bottom.     1)1  <f<  rente  between  the  common  and  the  m- 

I place  thi»  hm-  r.ittx  r  than  im<l.  -  I,  because,  intensive  slide 

so  often  stand*  romi"-t.<!  \\itl.  .liifi'-ulty  to  be  avoided 

may  be  seen  nuffirimtlv  in  nn  example  or  '  •••  is  a  general  tcn- 

'•  voice  a*  great  in  decrees  when  there  if 

little  ttres*,  a*  when  there  i«  unn-h  :  whrreuR.  in  the   former  case,  the 
slide  should  be  gentlr,  and  sometime*  hardly  perceptible. 


Ex.   18,   19.]        EXERCISES    ON    MODULATION.  Ill 

Common  slide, 

To  play  with  important  truths ;  to  disturb  the  repose  of 
established  tenets ;  to  subtilize  objections  ;  and  elude  proof, 
is  too  often  the  sport  of  youthful  vanity,  of  which  maturer 
experience  commonly  repents. 

Were  the  miser's  repentance  upon  the  neglect  of  a  good 
bargain  ;  his  sorrow  for  being  over-reached  ;  his  hope  of  im- 
proving a  sum  ;  and  his  fear  of  falling  into  want,  directed  to 
their  proper  objects,  they  would  make  so  many  Christian 
graces  and  virtues. 

Intensive  slide. 

Consider,  I  beseech  you,  what  was  the  part  of  a  faithful 
citizen  ?  of  a  prudent,  an  active,  and  an  honest  minister  ? 
Was  he  not  to  secure  Eubcea,  as  our  defense  against  all  at- 
tacks by  sea  ?  Was  he  not  to  make  Boetia  our  barrier  on 
the  midland  side  ?  The  cities  bordering  on  Peloponnesus 
our  bulwark  on  that  quarter  ?  Was  he  not  to  attend  with 
due  precaution  to  the  importation  of  corn,  that  this  trade 
might  be  protected,  through  all  its  progress,  up  to  our  own 
harbors  ?  Was  he  not  to  cover  those  districts  which  we 
commanded,  by  seasonable  detachments,  as  the  Proconesus, 
the  Chersonesus,  and  Tenedos  ?  To  exert  himself  in  the 
assembly  for  this  purpose,  while  with  equal  zeal  he  labored 
to  gain  others  to  our  interest  and  alliance,  as  Byzantium, 
Abydus,  and  Euboea  ? — Was  he  not  to  cut  off  the  best,  and 
most  important  resources  of  our  enemies,  and  to  supply  those 
in  which  our  country  was  defective  ? — And  all  this  you 
gained  by  my  counsels,  and  my  administration. 


EXERCISES   ON  MODULATION. 

The  reader  will  be  able  from  tLe  following  examples,  to  choose  those 
which  are  appropriate  to  rotundity  of  voice,  fullness,  loudness,  time,  rhe- 
torical pavse,  &c. 

COMPASS  OF  VOICE. 
Page  56.       EXERCISE   19. 

To  assist  in  cultivating  the  bottom  of  the  voice,  I  have  selected  exam- 
ples of  sublime  or  solemn  description,  which  admit  of  but  little  inflection; 
and  some  which  contain  the  figure  of  simile.  Where  the  mark  for  low 


I  l\i  -aXSBOISES    ON    MODULATION  [Ex.    !'.». 

note  is  inserted,  the  reader  will  take  pains  to  keep  down  his  voice,  and  to 
preserve  it  in  nearly  the  grave  monotone. 

1.  (0)   He   brewed  ill.-  heavens  also   and  -Mino  down;   and 
darkness  was  under  his  feet. — And  lie  rude  mum  a  cherub, 
and  did  fly:  yea,  he  flid  fly  upon  the  win^s  of  the  wind. — 
He  made  darkness  his  secn-t  j>lare  ;  his  pa\i!i.>n  n»\iml  about 
him  were  dark   waters,  and    thirk   c].lUd>   "l"  tin-   -kies. — At 
the  brightness  that  was  before  him,  his  thick  clouds  passed, 
hailstones  and  coals  of  fire. — The  LORD  also  thundered  in  the 
heavens,  and  the  highest  gave  his  voice  ;  hailstones  and  coals 
of  fire. 

2.  (0)  And  then  shall  appear  the  sign  of  the  Son  of  Man 
in  heaven ;  and  then  shall  all  the  tribes  of  the  earth  mourn, 
and  they  shall  see  the  Son  of  Man  coming  in   the   clouds  of 

•:.  with  power  and  great  glory. — And  he  shall  send  his 
angels,  with  a  threat  sound  of  a  trumpet,  and  they  shall 
gather  together  his  elect  from  the  four  winds,  from  one  end 
of  heaven  to  the  other. 

3.  (0)  And  the  heaven  departed  as  a  scroll,  when  it   is 
rolled  together ;  and  every  mountain  and  island  were  moved 
out  of  their  places.     2.   And  the  kings  of  the  earth,  and  the 
great  men,  and  the  rich  men,  and  the  chief  captains,  and   the 
mighty   men,   and  every  bondman,  and   every   freeman,  hid 
themselves  in  the  dens  and  in  the  rocks  of  the  mountains  ; 
and  said  to  the  mountains  and  rocks,  Fall  on  us,  and  hide  us 
from  the  face  of  him  that  sitteth  on  the  throne,  and  from  the 
wrath  of  the  Lamb  : — For  the  great  rfcryof  his  u»ra/A  is  come ; 
and  who  shall  be  able  to  stand  ? 

4.  And    I  saw  a  great  white  thrf>ne,   and   him    that  sat 
upon  it,  from  whose  face  the  earth  and  the  heaven  tied  away; 
and  there  was  found   no  place  for  them.      .",.   And  I  saw    the 
dead,   small   an'  -tand    before  God;  and    the  books 
were  opened:  and  another  book  was  opened,  which  is  the 
book  of  life:   and  the  dead  were  judged   out   of  those  things 
which  were  written  in   the   books,  according  to  their  \\ork-v 
»i.    And  the  sea  gave  up  the  dead  whirh  were  in  it  ;  and  death 
and  hell  delivered  up  the  dead  whirh  were  in  them  :  and  they 
were  judged  every  man  according  to  their  works. 

•  listening  Fear  and  dumb  Amazement  all  : 
When  t"  the  .startled  rye.  the  sudden  glance 
Appears  far  south,  eruptive  through  the  cloud: 
And  following  slower,  in  explosion  fast, 


Ex.   19.]  EXERCISES    ON    MODULATION'.  113 

The  Thunder  raises  his  tremendous  voice. 
At  first  heard  solemn  o'er  the  verge  of  heaven, 
The  tempest  growls ;  (0)  but  as  it  nearer  comes, 
And  rolls  its  awful  burthen  on  the  wind  ; 
5  The  lightnings  flash  a  larger  curve,  and  more 
The  noise  astounds :  till  over  head  a  sheet 
Of  livid  flame  discloses  wide;  then  shuts 
And  opens  wider ;  shuts  and  opens,  still 
Expansive,  wrapping  ether  in  a  blaze. 
10  Follows  the  loosen'd  aggravated  roar, 

Enlarging,  deep'ning,  mingling  peal  on  peal 
Crush'd  horrible,  convulsing  heaven  and  earth. 


6.  'Twas  then  great  Marlb'rough's  mighty  soul  was 
prov'd, 

15  That  in  the  shock  of  charging  hosts  unmov'd, 
Amidst  confusion,  horror,  and  despair, 
Examin'd  all  the  dreadful  scenes  1Jf  war  ; 
In  peaceful  thought  the  field  of  death  survey'd, 
To  fainting  squadrons  sent  the  timely  aid  ; 

20  Inspir'd  repuls'd  battalions  to  engage, 

And  taught  the  doubtful  battle  where  to  rage. 
(0)  So  when  an  angel,  by  divine  command, 
With  rising  tempests  shakes  a  guilty  land, 
(Such  as  of  late  o'er  pale  Brittania  past,) 

25  Calm  and  serene  he  drives  the  furious  blast ; 
And  pleas'd  th'  Almighty's  orders  to  perform, 
Rides  on  the  whirlwind,  and  directs  the  storm. 


7.  Rous'd   from  his  trance,  he  mounts   with  eyes 

aghast, 
When  o'er  the  ship,  in  undulation  vast, 

30  A  giant  surge  down  rushes  from  on  high, 
And  fore  and  aft  dissever'd  ruins  lie ; 
(0)  As  when  Britannia's  empire  to  maintain, 
Great  Hawke  descends  in  thunder  on  the  main, 
Around,  the  brazen  voice  of  battle  roarsf, 

35  And  fatal  lightnings  blast  the  hostile  shores ; 
Beneath  the  storm  their  shatter'd  navies  groan, 
The  trembling  deep  recoils  from  zone  to  zone ; 
Thus  the  torn  vessel  felt  the  enormous  stroke, 
The  beams  beneath  the  thund'ring  deluge  broke. 


Ill  «K3    ON    M'.MI.ATION.  [Ex.    19. 

8.  To  whom,  in  brief,  thus  Alxliel  stern  replied. 
Reign  thuu  in  //<//,  thy  l.-t  me  serve 

In  Il< av'n  God  ever  blest,  and  his  divine 
Behests  obey,  worthiest  v'd  ; 

f.    Ye*  - -1'uiny  in  Hell,  i,  •  Li!<' 

lurn'd  us  erst  thou  saulst  lr»iu  llight,) 
Tliis  greeting  on  thy  impiou-  •  ,\e. 

(0)  So  saying  a  noble  stroke  In-  lilted  high, 
Which  hung  i.  .  with  tempest  fell 

10  On  the  proud  crest  of  Satan,  that  no  sight, 

Nor  motion  of  swift  thoughts,  less  could  his  sliield 
Such  ruin  intercept ;  ten  paces  huge 
He  back  recoil'd  ;  the  tenth  on  bended  knee 
His  massy  spear  upstay'd  ;  as  if  on  earth 
15  Winds  under  ground,  or  waters  forcing  way, 
Sidelong  had  pu.sh'd  a  mountain  from  his  seat, 
Half  sunk  with  all  his  pines.- 


Now  storming  fur}-  : 


And  clamor  sucn  as  heard  in  Heav'n  till  now 
20  "U  ;  arms  on  armor  clashing,  bray'd 

Horribl.  .ind  the  maddening  wheels 

Of  brazen  chariots  rag'd  ;  dire  was  the  noise 
Of  conflict;  over  head  the  di-ma! 
Of  firry  darts  in  flaming  vollevs   flew, 
25  And  flying,  vaulted  either  host  with  fire. 
So  under  tiery  rope  together  rush'd 
Both  battles  main,  with  ruinous  assault 
And  inextinguishable  rage  ;  all  Heaven 

>unded  ;  and  had  Earth  been  then,  all  Earth 
30  Had  to  her  center  shook. 


Long  time  in  e\. 


battle  hung  :  till  Satan,  who  that  day 
Prodigious  pow'r  had  shown,  and  ui> -t  in  arms 
No  equal,  ranging  through  the  dire  attack 

35  Of  fighting  Seraphim  at  length 

Saw  where  the  sword  of  Michael  smote,  and  fell'd 
Squa<  with  huge  two-handed  sway 

I'.randish'd  aloft,  the  horrid  edge  came  down 

40  \\ ";•!<    wasting;  such  d  n  to  withstand 

Ib-  halted,  mid  oppos'd  tlie  ro.-k\ 
Of  tenfold  adamant,  his  ample  shield, 
A  vast  circumference.     At  hi-  approach 
The  great  Archangel  from  his  warlike  toil 


Ex.    19.]  EXERCISES    ON    MODULATION.  115 

Surceas'd,  and  glad,  as  hoping  here  to  end 
Intestine  war  in  Heav'n,  th'  arch-foe  subdu'd. 
Now  wav'd  their  fiery  swords,  and  in  the  air 
Made  horrid  circles ;  two  broad  suns  their  shields 
5  Blaz'd  opposite,  while  expectation  stood 

In  horror ;  from  each  hand  with  speed  retired, 
Where  erst  was  thickest  fight,  the  angelic  throng, 
And  left  large  field,  unsafe  within  the  wind 
Of  such  commotion  ;  such  as,  to  set  forth 
10  Great  things  by  small,  if  nature's  concord  broke, 
Among  the  constellations  war  were  sprung, 
Two  planets  rushing  from  aspect  malign 
Of  fiercest  opposition,  in  mid-sky, 
Should  combat,  and  their  jarring  spheres  confound. 

Milton, 


The  following  examples  are  selected  as  a  specimen  of  those  passages 
which  are  most  favorable  to  the  cultivation  of  a  top  to  the  voice.  In 
pronouncing  these,  the  reader  should  aim  to  get  up  his  voice  to  the  high- 
est note  on  which  he  can  articulate  with  freedom  and  distinctness.  See 
remarks,  page  57,  bottom.  If  the  student  wishes  for  more  examples  of 
this  kind,  he  is  referred  to  EXERCISE  5,  p.  84. 

9.  Has  a  wise  and  good  God  furnished  us  with  desires 
which  have  no  correspondent  objects,  and  raised  expecta- 
tions in  our  breasts,  with  no  other  view  but  to  disappoint 
them  ? — Are  we  to  be  forever  in  search  of  happiness,  with- 
out arriving  at  it,  either  in  this  world  or  the  next  ? — Are 
we  formed  with  a  passionate  longing  for  immortality,  and 
yet  destined  to  perish,  after  this  short  period  of  existence  ? — 
Are  we  prompted  to  the  noblest  actions,  and  supported 
through  life,  under  the  severest  hardships  and  most  powerful 
temptations,  by  the  hopes  of  a  reward  which  is  visionary 
and  chimerical,  by  the  expectation  of  praises,  of  which* it  is 
utterly  impossible  for  us  ever  to  have  the  least  knowledge 
or  enjoyment  ? 

10.  (°)  "  Whence  and  what  art  thou,  execrable  shape, 
That  dar'st,  though  grim  and  terrible,  advance 
Thy  miscreated  front  athwart  my  way 
To  yonder  gates  ?  through  them  I  mean  to  pass, 
5  That  be  assured,  without  leave  ask'd  of  thee  : 
Retire,  or  taste  thy  folly  ;  and  learn  by  proof, 
Hell-born,  not  to  contend  with  spirits  of  Heav'n." 


116  EXERCISE*    ON    MODULATION.       [Ex.   10,  20. 

To  whom  the  goblin  full  of  wrath  replied  ; 
(°)  "Art  thou  that  traitor  Angel?  art  tliou  he, 

10  Who  first  brok  iv'n  and  faith,  till  then 

Unbroken,  and  in  proud  rebellious  arm- 
Drew  after  him  the  third  part  of  H--;i\  u  s  sons, 
Conjur'd  against  tin-  II  r  which  both  thou 

And  they,  outcast  from  (MM!,  an-  hrre  eondemn'd 

15  To  waste  eternal  days  in  woe  and  pain  ? 

And  reckon'st  thou  thyself  with  spirits  of  Hiav'n, 
Hell-doom 'd,  and  breath'st  detian  ...m. 

Where  /reign  kin^,  and,  to  enrage  thee  more, 
Thy  king  and  lord?     Back  to  tliv  j/nnishment, 

20  False  fugitive,  and  to  thy  speed  add  wings, 
Lest  with  a  whip  of  scorpions  I  pursue 
Thy  ling'ring,  or  with  one  stroke  of  this  dart, 
Strange  horrors  seize  thee,  and  pangs  unfelt  before."* 


TRANSITION. 
Page  60.     EXERCISE  20. 

The  Exercises  of  the  foregoing  head  were  designed  to  accostom  tha 
voice  to  exertion  on  tlir  i  xtn  m<-  notes  of  its  compass,  high  nnd  low. 
The  following  Exercises  under  this  head  are  intmdi -d  to  accustom  the 
voice  to  those  suddm  transitions  which  smtimciit  oiVn  r>  quires,  not 
only  as  to  pilch,  but  also  as  to  quantity. 

The  Power  of  Eloquence. 
AX  ODE. 

1  HEARD  ye  those  loud  contending  w.i 

That  shook  ( Ycr»j>ia's  pillar'd  st.v 
Saw  ye  tin-  mi^htv  fr»m  their  graves 
Look  up,  and  tn-nihl«-  at  her  fate? 
Who  shall  calm  the  an^ry  storm  '.' 
Who  the  nullity  task  (n-rlorm, 

And  bid  the  racing  tumult  ccn> 
See  the  son  of  Hermes  i 
With  siren  tongue,  and  speaking  • 
Hush  the  noiM-  and  hoothe  to  pe.. 

2  Lo  !  from  the  regions  of  the  North, 

The  reddening  storm  of  battle  pours  ; 
Rolls  along  the  trembling  earth, 
Fastens  on  the  Olynthian  towers. 

•  The  two  prrrrding  an  goal  rxnmplm  of  thr  inlfxfirr,  in  dikUnrtion 
from  the  cam** 


Ex.  20.]  EXERCISES    ON    MODULATION.  117 

3  (°)  "  Where  rests  the  sword  ? — where  sleep  the  brave  ? 
Awake !  Cecropia's  ally  save 

From  the  fury  of  the  blast ; 
Burst  the  storm  on  Phocis'  walls  ; 
Rise  I  or  Greece  forever  falls. 

Up  !  or  Freedom  breathes  her  last !" 

4  (0)  The  jarring  States,  obsequious  now, 

View  the  Patriot's  hand  on  high ; 
Thunder  gathering  on  his  brow, 
Lightning  flashing  from  his  eye. 

5  Borne  by  the  tide  of  words  along, 

One  voice,  one  mind,  inspire  the  throng : 

(°°)  "  To  arms !  to  arms !  to  arms !"  they  cry, 

"  Grasp  the  shield  and  draw  the  sword, 

Lead  us  to  Philippi's  lord, 
Let  us  conquer  him — or  die!" 

6  (  —  )  Ah,  Eloquence  !  thou  wast  undone ; 

Wast  from  thy  native  country  driven, 
When  Tyranny  eclipsed  the  sun, 
And  blotted  out  the  stars  of  heaven. 

7  When  Liberty  from  Greece  withdrew, 
And  o'er  the  Adriatic  flew, 

To  where  the  Tiber  pours  his  urn, 
She  struck  the  rude  Tarpeian  rock ; 
Sparks  were  kindled  by  the  shock — 

Again  thy  fires  began  to  burn  ! 

8  Now,  shining  forth,  thou  mad'st  compliant 

The  Conscript  Fathers  to  thy  charms ; 
Rous'd  the  world-bestriding  giant, 
Sinking  fast  in  Slavery's  arms  ! 

9  1  see  thee  stand  by  Freedom's  fane, 
Pouring  the  persuasive  strain, 

Giving  vast  conceptions  birth  : 
Hark  !  I  hear  thy  thunder's  sound, 
Shake  the  Forum  round  and  round — 

Shake  the  pillars  of  the  earth ! 

10  First-born  of  Liberty  divine ! 

Put  on  Religion  s  bright  array  ; 


118  ITI.ATION.    [Ex.  20,  21 

Spt<ik  .'  and  the  starless  grave  shall  shine 

The  portal  of  eternal  (I 

11  Rise,  kindling  with  tin-  orient  beam; 
Let  Calvary's  /till  in.-pire  the  tin  IIK-! 

Unfold  the  garments  roll'd  in  bl« 
O  touch  the  .souJ,  touch  all  her  chords. 
With  all  the  omnipotence  of  words, 

And  point  the  way  to  heaven — to  God. 


EXERCISE  21. 
Hohenlinden  —  Description  of  a  Battle  with  Firc-anm. 

1  (0)  On  Linden,  when  the  sun  was  low, 
All  bloodless  lay  the  untrodden  snow, 
And  dark  as  winter  was  the  flow 

Of  Iser  rolling  rapidly. 

2  But  Linden  saw  another  sight, 

(<)  "When  the  drum  b*at  at  dead  of  night, 
Commanding  lirrs  of  death,  to  light 
The  darkness  of  her  scenery. 

3  By  torch  and  trumpet  fast  array  'd, 
Each  warrior  drew  his  battle  blade, 
And  furious  every  charger  neigh'd, 

To  join  the  dreadful  revelry. 

4  (<)  Then  shook  the  hills  witn"  thunder  riven, 
Then  rush'd  the  ste'eds  to  battle  driven, 
And  louder  than  the  bolts  of  Heaven, 

Far  flish'd  the  red  artillery. 


5  And  redder  y  •  ill 

On  Linden's  hills  of  blood-st;iin'd  snow; 
And  darker  }et  shall  be  the  flow 
Of  Iser  rolling  rapidly. 

6  'Tis  morn,  —  bn  >n  lurid  sun 
Can  pierce  tin-  war-cloud-,  rolling  dun, 
While  furious  Frank  and  fiery  Hun 

Shout  in  their  sulph'roiis  canopy. 

7  The  combat  deepens:  —  (°°)  On,  ye  brave, 
Who  rush  to  glory,  or  the  grave  ! 


21,  22.]      EXERCISES    ON    MODULATION.  119 

Wave,  Munich,  all  thy  banners  wave ! 
And  charge  with  all  thy  chivalry  ! 

8  ( — )  Ah !  few  shall  part  where  many  meet ! 
The  snow  shall  be  their  winding  sheet, 
And  every  turf  beneath  their  feet 

Shall  be  a  soldier's  sepulchre.  Campbell. 


EXERCISE   22. 
Battle  of  Waterloo. 

1  There  was  a  sound  of  revelry  by  night, 
And  Belgium's  capital  had  gather'd  then 
Her  beauty  and  her  chivalry,  and  bright 

The  lamps  shone  o'er  fair  women  and  brave  men  : 
A  thousand  hearts  beat  happily  ;  and  when 
Music  arose  with  its  voluptuous  swell, 
Soft  eyes  look'd  love  to  eyes  which  spake  again, 
And  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage-bell ; 
(0)  But  hush !  hark !  •  •  a  deep  sound  strikes  like  a  ris- 
ing knell ! 

2  Did  ye  not  hear  it  ? — No  ;  'twas  but  the  wind, 
Or  the  car  rattling  o'er  the  stony  street : 

(°)  On  with  the  dance  !  let  joy  be  unconfined ; 

No  sleep  till  morn,  when  youth  and  pleasure  meet 

To  chase  the  glowing  hours  with  flying  feet — 

(0)  But,  hark ! — That  heavy  sound  breaks  in  once  more, 

As  if  the  clouds  its  echo  would  repeat. 

And  nearer,  clearer,  deadlier  than  before! 

(°°)  Arm  !  arm  !  it  is — it  is  the  cannon's  opening  roar ! 

3  ( — )  Ah  !  then  and  there  was  hurrying  to  and  fro, 
And  gathering  tears,  and  tremblings  of  distress, 
And  cheeks  all  pale,  which  but  an  hour  ago 
Blush 'd  at  the  praise  of  their  own  loveliness : 
And  there  were  sudden  partings,  such  as  press 
The  life  from  out  young  hearts,  and  choking  sighs 
Which  ne'er  might  be  repeated — who  could  guess 
If  ever  more  should  meet,  those  mutual  eyes, 

Since  upon  night  so  sweet,  such  awful  morn  could  rise  ? 

4  (=)  And  there  was  mounting,  in  hot  haste  ;  the  steed, 
The  mustering  squadron,  and  the  clattering  car 


120  KXEBCI8ES    ON    MODULATION.      [Ex.  22,  23. 

Went  pouring  f«>ruanl  with  impetuous  sp<  • 
And  swiftly  forming  in  the  rank*  »i  war, 
And  the  deep  thunder,  peal  on  peal  afar ; 
And  near,  the  beat  of  the  alarming  drum 
Roused  up  the  soldier  ere  the  morning  star ; 
While  throng'd  the  citizens  with  terror  dumb 
Or  whispering  with  white  lips — "  The  foe!     They  come. 
They  come !" 

5  (- — )  And  Ardennes*  waves  above  them  her  green  leaves, 
Dewey  with  nature's  tear-drops,  as  they  pass, 
Grieving,  if  aught  inanimate  e'er  grieves, 

Over  the  unreturning  brave, — alas  ! 

Ere  evening  to  be  trodden  like  the  grass, 

Which  now  beneath  them,  but  above  shall  grow 

In  its  next  verdure,  when  the  fiery  maw 

Of  living  valor,  rolling  on  the  foe, 

And  burning  with  high  hope,  shall  moulder  cold  and  low. 

6  Last  noon  beheld  them  full  of  lusty  life, 
Last  eve  in  beaut  proudly  gay, 

The  midnight  brought  the  signal-sound  of  strife, 

The  morn,  the  marshaling  in  arms, — the  day, 

Battle's  magnificently-stern  array  ! 

The  thunder-clouds  closed  o'er  it,  which  when  rent, 

The  earth  is  cover'd  thick  with  other  clay, 

Which  her  own  clay  shall  cover,  ln-ap'd  and  pent, 

Rider  and  horse, — friend,  foe, — in  one  red  burial  blent ! 

Byron. 

I.XERCISE  23. 
Negro 's  Complaint. 

1  ( — )  Forced  from  home  and  all  its  pleasures, 

Afric's  coast  I  left  forlorn  ; 
To  increa- 

O'er  the  raging  billows  borne. 
Men  from  England  bought  and  sold  me, 

Paid  my  price  in  paltry  gold  ; 
But  though  slave  tin -y  have  enroll'd  me, 

Mindt  are  never  to  be  sold. 

2  Still  in  thought  as  free  as  • 

What  are  England's  rights  I  ask, 
Me  from  my  delights  to  sever, 
Me  to  lortnrr.  me  to  t<> 


•  PronmincH  in  »rro  wlI«Me«. 


Ex.  23.]  EXERCISES    ON    MODULATION.  121 

Fleecy  locks,  and  black  complexion, 

Cannot  forfeit  Nature's  claim  ; 
Skins  may  differ,  but  affection 

Dwells  in  white  and  black  the  same. 

3  Why  did  all-creating  nature 

Make  the  plant  for  which  we  toil  ? 
Sighs  must  fan  it,  tears  must  water. 

Sweat  of  ours  must  dress  the  soil. 
Think,  ye  masters  iron-hearted, 

Lolling  at  your  jovial  boards  ; 
Think  •  •  how  many  backs  have  smarted 

For  the  sweets  your  cane  affords. 

4  (8)  Is  there,  as  ye  sometimes  tell  us, 

Is  there  One  who  reigns  on  high  ? 
Has  he  bid  you  buy  and  sell  us, 

Speaking  from  his  throne  the  sky  ? 
Ask  him,  if  your  knotted  scourges, 

Matches,  blood-extorting  screws, 
Are  the  means  that  duty  urges 

Agents  of  his  will  to  use  ? 

5  (0)  Hark  ! — he  answers  ; — wild  tornadoes, 

Strewing  yonder  sea  with  wrecks ; 
Wasting  towns,  plantations,  meadows, 

Are  the  voice  with  which  he  speaks. 
He,  foreseeing  what  vexations 

Afric's  sons  should  undergo, 
Fix'd  their  tyrants'  habitations 

Where  his  WHIRLWINDS  answer — NO. 

6  By  our  blood  in  Afric  wasted, 

Ere  our  necks  received  the  chain ; 
By  the  miseries  that  we  tasted, 

Crossing  in  your  barks  the  main  ; 
By  our  sufferings  since  ye  brought  us 

To  the  man-degrading  mart ; 
All,  sustain'd  by  patience,  taught  us 

Only  by  a  broken  heart ; 

7  *Deem  our  nation  brutes  •  •  no  longer, 

Till  some  reason  ye  shall  find 

*  Firm  voice. 
6 


122  iM'IBEB    ON    MODULATION.      [Kx.  i»M    V.'  I. 

Worthier  of  regard,  and  stronger 

Than  the  color  of  our  kind. 
Slaves  of  <jol'i,  whose  sordid  dealings 

Tarnish  all  your  boasted  powers, 
Prove  that  you  have  human  feelings, 

Ere  you  proudly  question  uurt  7  Coioptr. 


I;K<  isi; 

Marco  Bozzaris  tht  Ejxinitnonda*  of  Modern  Greece. 

[He  fell  in  an  attack  upon  the  Turkish  Camp,  at  I.nnpi,  the  site  of 
the  ancient  Platen.  Au»u*t  •„»<).  1*^33,  and  expired  in  th?  moment  of  ric- 
tory.  HU  last  words  were — "  To  die  for  liberty  is  a  pleasure,  and  not 
a  pain."] 

1  At  midnight,  in  hN  guarded  tent, 

The  Turk  was  dreaming  of  the  hour, 
When  Greece,  her  knee  in  suppliance  bent, 

Should  tremble  at  his  power  ; 
In  dreams,  through  camp  and  court,  he  bore 
The  trophies  of  a  conqueror ; 

In  dreams.  Ins  SOUL:  of  triumph  heard  ; 
Then  won-  his  monarch's  signet  ring, — 
Then  press'd  that  monarch's  throne, — a  king  ; 
\s  wild  his  thoughts,  and  gay  of  wing, 

As  Eden's  garden  bird. 

2  An  hour  pass'd  on — the  Turk  awoke  ; 
That  bright  dream  was  his  last ; 

He  woke — to  hear  his  sentry's  shriek, 

(°)  "To  arms!  they  come!  The  Greek  !  the  Greek' 

He  woke — to  die  •  •  midst  flame  and  smoke, 

And  shout,  and  groan,  and  sabre  str- 

And  death  shots  falling  thick  and  fa-t 

As  lightning's  from  the  mountain  cloud; 

And  heard,  with  voice  as  trumpet  loud, 

Bozzaris  ch»-.-r  IM\  hand. 

(°°)  "Strike— till  the  List  ann'd  foe  expir«», 
Strike — for  your  altars  and  your  fire*, 
Strike — for  the  green  grave*  of  your  sires, 

God — and  your  n,r 

i — like  br  !..n.r  and  well, 

piled  that  ground  with  Moslem  slain. 


Ex.  24,  25.]        EXERCISES    ON    MODULATION.  123 

They  conquer' d — but  Bozzaris  fell, 

Bleeding  at  every  vein. 
His  few  surviving  comrades  saw 
His  smile,  when  rang  their  proud — "  hurrah," 

And  the  red  field  was  won ; 
Then  saw  in  death  his  eyelids  close, 
Calmly,  as  to  a  night's  repose, 

Like  flowers  at  set  of  sun. 

4  ( — )  Come  to  the  bridal  chamber,  Death ! 

Come  to  the  mother,  when  she  feels, 
For  the  first  time,  her  first-born's  breath  ; 

Come  when  the  blessed  seals, 
Which  close  the  pestilence  are  broke, 
And  crowded  cities  wail  its  stroke  ; 
Come  in  consumption's  ghastly  form, 
The  earthquake  shock,  the  ocean  storm  ; — 
Come  when  the  heart  beats  high  and  warm, 

With  banquet-song,  and  dance,  and  wine, 
And  thou  art  terrible :  the  tear, 
The  groan,  the  knell,  the  pall,  the  bier, 
And  all  we  know,  or  dream,  or  fear 

Of  agony,  are  thine. 

5  But  to  the  hero,,  when  his  sword 

Has  won  the  battle  for  the  free, 
Thy  voice  sounds  like  a  prophet's  word, 
And  in  its  hollow  tones  are  heard 

The  thanks  of  millions  yet  to  be. 
Bozzaris  !  with  the  storied  brave 

Greece  nurtured  in  her  glory's  time, 
Rest  thee — there  is  no  prouder  grave, 

Even  in  her  own  proud  clime. 
We  tell  thy  doom  without  a  sigh  ; 
For  thou  art  Freedom's  now,  and  Fame's — 
One  of  the  few,  the  immortal  names, 

That  were  not  born  to  die.  Halleck. 


EXERCISE  25. 

(0)  Now  when  fair  morn  orient  in  Heaven  appear'd 
Up  rose  the  victor  Angels,  and  to  arms 


124  EXERCISES    ON    MODULATION.  [Ex.  25 

The  matin  trumpet  sung :   in  arms  they  stood 

Of  golden  panoply,  refulgent  host, 
5  Soon  banded ;  others  from  the  dawning  hills 

Look'd  round,  inn:  .eh  coast  light  armed  scour. 

Each  quarter,  in  descry  th- 

Where  lodg'd,  or  whither  tied,  or  if  for  fight, 

In  motion  or  in  halt :  him  soon  they  met 
10  Under  spread  ensigns  mo\ing  ni^li.  in  slow 

13ut  firm  battalion  ;  back  with  speediest  sail 

Zophiel,  of  CheruSiim  the  s\\ilte>t  wing, 

Came  fly'ng,  and  in  mid  air  aloud  thus  cried. 

(°°)  '  ARM,  Warriors,  arm  for  fight — the  foe  at  hand 
15  Whom  fled  we  thought,  will  save  us  long  pursuit 

This  day;  fear  not  his  flight:  so  thick  a  cloud 

He  comes,  and  settled  in  his  face  I  see 

Sad  resolution  and  MM  ach 

Hi*  adamantine  coat  gird  well, — and  • 
CO  Fit  well  his  helm, — gripe  fast  his  orbed  shield, 

rne  ev'n  or  high  :  i'»r  this  day  will  pour  down, 

If  I  conjecture  aught,  no  drizzling  sho\ 

But  rattling  storm  of  arrows,  barb'd  with  fire.' 

(0)  So  warn'd  he  them,  aware  themselves,  and  soon 
25  In  order,  quit  of  all  impediment;         • 

Instant,  without  disturb,  they  took  alarm, 

And  onward  move,  embattled  :   when  behold, 

Not  distant  far,  with  heavy  pace  the  foe 

Approaching,  gross  and  huge,  in  hollow  cube, 
30  Training  Li-  devilish  enginery,  impal'd 

On  every  side  with  shadowing  squadrons  deep, 

To  hide  the  fraud.      At  interview  both  stood 

A  while  ;  but  suddenly  at  head  appear 'd 

Satan,  and  thus  was  heard  commanding  loud. 
35  (°°)  '  VAXi;fAiii> ! — to  right  and  left  the  front  unfold, 

That  all  may  see  who  hate  us,  how  we 

Peace  and  composure,  and  with  open  breast 

Stand  ready  to  receive  them,  if  they  like 

Our  overture,  and  turn  not  back  perverse.' 

Milton. 


Ex.  26.J  EXERCISED    ON    MODULATION.  125 

EXPRESSION. 
Page  61. 

The  Exercises  arranged  in  this  class,  belong  to  the  general  head  of 
the  pathetic  and  delicate.  As  this  has  been  partly  anticipated  under  an- 
other head  of  the  Exercises,  and  as  the  manner  of  execution  in  this  case 
depends  wholly  on  emotion,  there  can  be  little  assistance  rendered  by  a 
notation.  Before  reading  the  pieces  in  this  class,  the  remarks,  p.  61  and 
62  should  be  reviewed ;  and  the  mind  should  be  prepared  to  feel  the 
spirit  of  each  piece,  by  entering  fully  into  the  circumstances  of  the  case. 

EXERCISE   26. 
GENESIS  XLIV.     Judalis  Speech  to  Joseph. 

18.  *  Then  Judah  came  near  unto  him  and  said,  0  my 
lord,  let  thy  servant,  I  pray  thee,  speak  a  word  in  my  lord's 
ears,  and  let  not  thine  anger  burn  against  thy  servant :  for 
thou  art  even  as  Pharaoh. — 19.  My  lord  asked  his  servants, 
saying,  Have  ye  a  father,  or  a  brother  ? — 20.  And  we  said 
unto  my  lord,  We  have  a  father,  an  old  man,  and  a  child  of 
his  old  age,  a  little  one :  and  his  brother  is  dead,  and  he 
alone  is  left  of  his  mother,  and  his  father  loveth  him. — 21. 
And  thou  saidst  unto  thy  servants,  Bring  him  down  unto  me, 
that  I  may  set  mine  eyes  upon  him. — 22.  And  we  said  unto 
my  lord,  The  lad  cannot  leave  his  father :  for  if  he  should 
leave  his  father,  his  father  would  die. — 23.  And  thou  saidst 
unto  thy  servants,  Except  your  youngest  brother  come  down 
with  you,  ye  shall  see  my  face  no  more. — 24.  And  it  came  to 
pass,  when  we  came  up  unto  thy  servant  my  father,  we  told 
him  the  words  of  my  lord. — 25.  And  our  father  said,  Go 
again  and  buy  us  a  little  food. — 26.  And  we  said,  We  cannot 
go  down :  if  our  youngest  brother  be  with  us,  then  we  will 
go  down ;  for  we  may  not  see  the  man's  face,  except  our 
youngest  brother  be  with  us. — 27.  And  thy  servant  my  father 
said  unto  us,  Ye  know  that  my  wife  bare  me  two  sons : 
— 28.  And  the  one  went  out  from  me,  and  I  said,  Surely 
he  is  torn  in  pieces;  and  I  saw  him  not  since: — 29.  And 
if  ye  take  this  also  from  me,  and  mischief  befall  him,  ye 
shall  bring  down  my  gray  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave  ( — ) 
30.  Now,  therefore,  when  I  come  to  thy  servant  my  father, 
and  the  lad  be  not  with  us ;  (seeing  that  his  life  is  bound  up 
in  the  lad's  life:) — 31.  It  shall  come  to  pass,  when  he  seeth. 

*  The  reader  is  again  desired  to  bear  in  mind,  that  in  extracts  from 
the  Bible,  as  well  as  other  books,  Italic  words  denote  emphasis. 


•    1,1  i.  A  i  ION.     [Ex.  26,  27. 


that  th<-  lad  is  imt  \Mth  us,  that  IK-  will  die  :  and  thy  servants 
shall  bring  down  the  gray  hairs  of  thy  servant  our  father 
with  sorrow  to  the  gra\«-.  —  ;<-.  For  thy  srnant  became  surety 
for  the  lad  unto  my  father,  sa\  m^.  It  1  brin^  him  not  unto 
ihen  I  shall  bear  the  blame  to  my  i  ver.  — 

38.  Now  therefore,  I  pray  t  !)«•••.  let  thy  M-rvant  abide  intttod 
of  the  lad,  a  bondman  to  my  lord  ;  and  l--t  the  lad  go  up 
with  his  brethren.  —  34.  For  how  shall  I  go  up  to  my  father, 
and  the  lad  be  not  with  me  ?  lest  peradventure  1  see  the 
evil  that  shall  come  on  my  father. 


i:\ERCISE  27. 
GENESIS  XLV.     Joseph  disclosing  himself. 

1.  Then  Joseph  could  not  refrain  himself  before  all  them 
that  stood  by  him  ;  and  he  cried,  Cause  every  man  to  go 
out  from  me.  And  there  stood  no  man  with  him  while  Jo- 
seph made  himself  known  unto  his  brethren. — 2.  And  he 
wept  aloud ;  and  the  Egyptians  and  the  house  of  Pharaoh 
heard. — 3.  And  Joseph  said  unto  his  brethren,  I  AM  JOSEPH: 
doth  my  FATHER  yet  live  ? — And  his  brethren  could  not  an- 
swer him,  f<>r  they  were  troubled  at  hid  presence.^-4.  And 
Joseph  said  unto  his  brethren.  Come  near  to  me,  1  pray  you; 
and  they  came  near.  And  he  said,  I  am  JOSKI-H,  your 
brother,  whom  ye  sold  into  Iv^ypt. — 5.  Now  therefore  be 
not  grieved,  nor  angry  with  yourselves,  that  ye  sold  me 
hither :  for  God  did  send  me  before  you  to  preserve  life. — 6. 
For  these  two  years  hath  the  famine  been  in  the  land  :  and 
yet  there  are  five  years,  in  the  which  there  shall  be  neither 
earing  nor  harvest. — 7.  And  God  sent  me  before  you,  to  pre- 
serve you  a  posterity  in  the  earth,  and  to  save  your  lives  by 
a  great  deliverance. — 8.  So  now  H  •  v<»"  that  sent 

me  hither,  but  God :  and  he  hath  made  me  a  father  to  Plm- 
md  lord  of  all  his  h..u>r.  ;md  a  ruler  throughout  nil 
the  land  of  Egypt.-  and   «n>  up  t.>  nn  lather, 

and  say  unto  him.  Thus  saith  thy  son  Joseph,  (iod  hath 
mode  me  lord  of  all  I  -nr.  tarry  not. — 

1"  And  thou  shalt  dwell  in  the  land  of  Goshen,  and  thou 
shalt  be  n. sir  uiiin  me,  thon.  and  thy  children,  and  thy  chil- 
dren's children,  and  thy  flocks  and  thy  herds,  nnd  all  that 
thou  haul: — 11.  And  th.-re  will  I  noun-1  \  rt  there 

are  five  years  <•:  1-st  thou,  and  thy  household,  and 

nil  that  -t,  romp  i  — 1'J.  And  behold,  your 


Ex.  27,  28.]        EXERCISES    ON    MODULATION.  127 

eyes  ste,  and  the  eyes  of  my  brother  Benjamin,  that  it  is  my 
mouth  that  speaketh  unto  you.  13.  and  ye  shall  tell  my 
father  of  all  my  glory  in  Egypt,  and  of  all  that  ye  have  seen ; 
and  ye  shall  haste,  and  bring  down  my  father  hither.  14. 
And  he  fell  upon  his  brother  Benjamin's  neck,  and  wept ; 
and  Benjamin  wept  upon  his  neck.  15.  Moreover  he  kissed 
all  his  brethren,  and  wept  upon  them :  and  after  that  his 
brethren  talked  with  him. 

25.  And  they  went  up  out  of  Egypt,  and  came  into  the 
land  of  Canaan  unto  Jacob  their  father,  26.  And  told  him, 
saying,  JOSEPH  is  yet  ALIVE  !  and  he  is  GOVERNOR  over  all 
the  land  of  Egypt.  And  Jacob's  heart  fainted,  for  he  be- 
lieved them  not.  27.  And  they  told  him  all  the  words  of 
Joseph,  which  he  had  said  unto  them :  and  when  he  saw 
the  wagons  which  Joseph  had  sent  to  carry  him,  the  spirit 
of  Jacob  their  father  revived  :  28.  And  Israel  said,  it  is 
enough ;  Joseph  my  son  is  yet  alive  :  I  will  go  and  see  him 
before  I  die. 


EXERCISE  28. 
The  Death  of  a  Friend. 

1  I  fain  would  sing  : — but  ah  !  I  strive  in  vain. 
Sighs  from  a  breaking  heart  my  voice  confound. 
With  trembling  step,  to  join  yon  weeping  train, 
I  haste,  where  gleams  funereal  glare  around, 

And,  mix'd  with  shrieks  of  woe,  the  knells  of  death  re- 
sound. 

2  Adieu,  ye  lays,  that  Fancy's  flowers  adorn, 
The  soft  amusement  of  the  vacant  mind  ; 

He  sleeps  in  dust,  and  all  the  Muses  mourn, — 
He,  whom  each  virtue  fired,  each  grace  refined, 
Friend,  teacher,  pattern,  darling  of  mankind  ! 
He  sleeps  in  dust.     Ah,  how  shall  I  pursue 
My  theme  !     To  heart-consuming  grief  resign'd 
Here  on  his  recent  grave  I  fix  my  view, 
And  pour  my  bitter  tears.     Ye  flowery  lays,  adieu ! 

3  Art  thou,  my  GREGORY,  forever  fled? 
And  am  I  left  to  unavailing  woe  ! 

When  fortune's  storms  assail  this  weary  head, 
Where  cares  long  since  have  shed  untimely  snow  ? 


128  BXBBCIBKS  ON   MUDUJ..VTIOX.     [Ex.  28,  20. 

Ah,  now  for  comfort  whither  shall  I  go! 
No  more  thy  soothing  voice  my  anguish  cheers : 
Thy  plarid  «-v«-s  witli  smi!'--;  tm  linger  glow, 
My  hopes  to  cherish,  and  allay  ray  fears. 
Tit  meet  that  I  should  mourn :  flow  forth  afresh  my  tear*. 

Btattie. 


EXERCISE   29. 
The  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moort. 

1  ( — )  Not  a  drum  was  heard,  not  a  funeral  note, 

As  his  corse  to  the  ramparts  we  hurried ; 
Not  a  soldier  discharged  hi>  fan-well  shot 
O'er  the  grave,  where  our  Hero  we  buried. 

2  We  buried  him  darkly  ;  at  dead  of  night ; 

The  sods  with  our  bayonets  turning, 
By  the  struggling  moon-beams'  misty  light, 
And  the  lantern  dimly  burning. 

3  No  useless  coffin  inclosed  his  breast. 

Nor  in  sheet  nor  in  shroud  we  wound  him  ; 
But  he  lay — like  a  warrior  taking  his  rest — 
With  his  martial  cloak  around  him  ! 

4  F&w  and  shdrt  were  the  prayers  we  said, 

And  we  spoke  not  a  wdrd  of  sorrow  ; 
But  we  steadfastly  nnzed  on  the  face  of  the  dead, 
And  we  bitterly  thought  of  the  morrow — 

5  We  thought — as  we  hollow'd  his  narrow  bed, 

And  smoothed  down  his  lonely  pillow — 
How  the/t*  and  the  stran  /<  /  w.mld  tr.a-1  <«'er  his  bead. 
And  tec  far  nway  on  the  billow  ! 

6  Lightly  they'll  '.ilk  of  the  spirit  that's  gone, 

And  o'er  hi-;  •  'iplir.iid  him  ; 

Hut    little  he'll   n-ck.   it"   they  let  him  sleep  on 
In  the  grave  where  a  Hrit«>n  h:is  laid  him. 

7  But  half  of  our  heavy  task  was  <1 

Wli.'ti  the  rl(M-k  toll'ti  the  hour  f«T  retiring, 
\nd  we  heard  the  distant  and  random 
Thnt  th«  foe   waa  unHenly  firing — 


Ex.  30,  31.]       EXERCISES    ON    MODULATION.  129 

8  (  3  )  Slowly  and  sadly  we  laid  him  down, 

From  the  field  of  his  fame  fresh  and  gory ! 
We  carved  not  a  line,  we  raised  not  a  stone, 
But  left  him — alone  with  his  glory !  Wolfe. 


EXERCISE   30. 

Eve  lamenting  the  loss  of  Paradise. 
( — )  "  0  unexpected  stroke,  worse  than  of  Death  ! 
Must  I  thus  leave  thee,  Paradise  ?  thus  leave 
Thee,  native  soil,  these  happy  walks  and  shades, 
Fit  haunt  of  gods  ?  where  I  had  hope  to  spend, 
5  Quiet  though  sad,  the  respite  of  that  day 
That  must  be  mortal  to  us  both.     O  flowers, 
That  never  will  in  other  climate  grow, 
My  early  visitation,  and  my  last 
At  ev'n,  which  I  bred  up  with  tender  hand, 

10  From  the  first  opening  bud,  and  gave  ye  names, 
Who  now  shall  rear  you  to  the  sun,  or  rank 
Your  tribes,  and  water  from  the  ambrosial  fount  ? 
Thee  lastly,  nuptial  bow'r,  by  me  adorn'd 
With  what  to  sight  or  smell  was  sweet,  from  thee 

15  How  shall  I  part,  and  whither  wander  down 
Into  a  lower  world,  to  this  obscure 
And  wild  ?  how  shall  we  breathe  in  other  air 
Less  pure,  accustom'd  to  immortal  fruits  ? 


EXERCISE  31. 

Soliloquy  of  Hamlet's  Uncle. 
(  y  )  Oh  !  my  offence  is  rank,  it  smells  to  heaven  ; 
It  hath  the  primal,  eldest  curse  upon  't, 
A  brother's  murder  ! — Pray  I  cannot, 
Though  inclination  be  as  sharp  as  will, 
5  My  stronger  guilt  defeats  my  strong  intent : 
And  like  a  man  to  double  business  bound, 
I  stand  in  pause  where  I  shall  first  begin, 
And  both  neglect.     (  °  )  What  if  this  cursed  hand 
Were  thicker  than  itself  with  brother's  blood  ; 
10  Is  there  not  rain  enough  in  the  sweet  heavens, 

To  wash  it  white  as  snow  ?     Whereto  serves  mercy, 

But  to  confront  the  visage  of  offence  ? 

And  what's  in  prayer,  but  this  twofold  force, 


130  EXERCISE*    ON    MODULATION.       [Kx.  31,  S'J. 

To  be  forestall'  >  fall, 

15  Or  pardon'd  being  down '.'— Tln-n  I'll  look  HJ>  ; 

My  fault  is  past. — But  oh,  what  form  of  prayer 

.  rvi-  in ij  turn  ?     "  Forgive  me  my  foul  murder!" 

That  cannot  be  ;  sim-r  1  am  Mill  possess'd 

Of  those  effects  for  which  I  >l«l  the  munl.T. 
20  My  crown,  mine  own  ambition,  and  my  <|U<  cii  : 
.  one  be  pardon'd,  and  retain  the  offence  ? 

In  the  corrupted  currents  of  thin  world, 

Offence's  gilded  hand  may  shove  by  justice, 

And  oft  'tis  seen,  the  wicked  prize  itself 
25  Buys  out  the  law  ;  but  'tis  not  so  above  : 

There,  is  no  shuffling  ;  there,  the  action  lies 

In  his  true  nature;  and  we  om-.-lves  compell'd, 
•  •n  to  the  teeth  and  forehead  of  our  faults, 

To  give  in  evidence. — What  then  ? — what  rests? 
30  Try  what  repentance  can  :  what  can  it  i 

Yet  what  can  it,  when  one  cannot  rep.-nt  ? 

(0)  0  wretched  state !  oh,  bosom,  black  as  death  ! 

Oh,  limed  soul ;  tl  ;ng  to  be  free, 

Art  more  engag'd !     Help,  an^rls!  make  assay! 
35  Bow,  stubborn  knees;  and,  heart,  with  strings  of  steel, 

Be  soft  as  sinews  of  the  new-born  babe  ! 

All  may  be  well. 


RHETORICAL  DIALOGUE. 
Page  62.     EXERCISE  32. 

1.  MATT.  xiv. — 22.  And  straightway  Jesus  constrained 
his  disciples  to  '„'•  t  int»  a  ship,  and  to  go  b«-for<;  him  unto 
the  other  side,  w  nt  the  multitudes  -.-.  Arvl 

when  he  had  sent  tin-  nmltii  •   up  int<>  a 

mountain   apart    t»   pray  :   and    when  the  evening  wo* 
he  was  there  alon-       .1.   I';;'  thfl  >hip  was  now  HI  tlx-  midst 
of  the  sea,  tossed  with  \\  tin-  wind  was  contrary. 

25.  And   in   the  fourth  watch  of  the   ni^ht.  .1.  M;N  \M-nt  unto 

mg  on  the  sea.     26.  And  wln-u  the  d. 
him  walking  on  the  sea.  • 

ir.     -J7.    I!  htway 

.I,-;i-  -pak.-  onto  them,  saying,  I'--  »;'  good  cheer;  it  i>   /  ; 

be   not   afraid.     28.  And    l'<  UT   answered    him    and   said, 

if  it    t*>  tln'-ii.    Kid    me    cdm«>  in  •  .n   the  wa- 


Ex.   32.]  EXERCISES    ON    MODULATION.  .        131 

ter.  29.  And  he  said,  Come.  And  when  Peter  was  come 
down  out  of  the  ship,  he  walked  on  the  water,  to  go  to 
Jesus.  30.  But  when  he  saw  the  wind  boisterous,  he  was 
afraid ;  and  beginning  to  sink,  he  cried,  saying,  Lord,  save 
me.  31.  And  immediately  Jesus  stretched  forth  his  hand, 
and  caught  him,  and  said  unto  him,  O  thou  of  little  faith, 
wherefore  didst  thou  doubt?  32.  And  when  they  were 
come  into  the  ship,  the  wind  ceased.  33.  Then  they  that 
were  in  the  ship  came  and  worshiped  him,  saying,  Of  a  truth 
thou  art  the  Son  of  God. 


2.  MATT.  xvn. — 14.  And  when  they  were  come  to  the 
multitude,  there  came  to  him  a  certain  man  kneeling  down 
to  him,  and  saying,  15.  Lord,  have  mercy  on  my  son;  for 
he  is  lunatic  and  sore  vexed :  for  ofttimes  he  falleth  into 
theatre,  and  oft  into  the  water.  16.  And  I  brought  him  to 
thy  disciples,  and  they  could  not  cure  him.  17.  Then  Jesus 
answered  and  said,  0  faithless  and  perverse  generation, 
how  long  shall  I  be  with  you  ?  how  long  shall  I  suffer  you  ? 
Bring  him  hither  to  m&.  18.  And  Jesus  rebuked  the  devil, 
and  he  departed  out  of  him :  and  the  child  was  cured  from 
that  very  hour.  19.  Then  came  the  disciples  ta  Jesus  apart, 
and  said,  Why  could  not  we  cast  him  out  ?  20.  And  Jesus 
said  to  them,  Because  of  your  unbelief:  for  verily  I  say  unto 
you,  If  ye  have  faith  as  a  grain  of  mustai'd-seed,  ye  shall 
say  unto  this  mountain,  Remove  hence  to  yonder  place  ; 
and  it  shall  remove  ;  and  nothing  shall  be  impossible  unto 
you. 


3.  MATT.  xvm. — Therefore  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
likened  unto  a  certain  king,  which  would  take  account  of 
his  servants.  24.  And  when  he  had  begun  to  reckon,  one 
was  brought  unto  him  which  owed  him  ten  thousand  talents. 
25.  But  forasmuch  as  he  had  not  to  pay,  his  lord  commanded 
him  to  be  sold,  and  his  wife  and  children,  and  all  that  he 
had,  and  payment  to  be  made.  26.  The  servant  therefore  fell 
down  and  worshiped  him,  saying,  Lord,  have  patience  with 
me,  and  I  will  pay  thee  all.  27.  Then  the  lord  of  that  ser- 
vant was  moved  with  compassion,  and  loosed  him,  and  for- 
gave him  the  debt.  28.  But  the  same  servant  went  out,  and 
found  one  of  his  fellow-servants,  which  owed  him  an  hun- 


UN      Mul)Ll.ATIO\.  [E\ 


dred  pence;  and  he  laid  hands  on  him,  and  took  him  by 
the  throat,  saying.  I'm/  me  thai  tliou  .  '.  And  his 

fellow-servant  fell  <ln\vn  at  l.is  Icet,  and  \»  --ought  him,  say- 
ing, HUM-  pmHatet  with  inc.  and  I  uiil  pay  thee  all.  30. 
And  he  would  not:  but  went  and  ca-st  him  into  pri.son,  till 
he  should  pay  the  debt.  :ti.  So  when  his  fellow-hervants 
saw  what  was  done,  they  \\.-n-  \nv  -orrv,  and  came  and 
told  unto  their  lord  all  that  was  done.  •:_'.  'I'lu-i:  hi>  l<>nl, 
after  that  lie  had  called  him,  .said  unt«.  him,  O  thou  tricked 
servant,  I  forgave  thee  all  that  debt,  because  thou  desiredst 
me:  33.  Shouldst  not  th»u  al><>  have  had  compassion  on  thy 
fellow-servant  even  as  I  had  pity  on  thee  ? 

4.  MATT.  xx.  —  25.  But  Jesus  called  them  unto  him,  and 
said,  Ye  know  that  the  princes  of  the  Gentiles  exercise  do- 
minion over  them,  and  they  that  are  great  exercise  authority 
upon  them.  26.  But  it  shall  not  be  so  among  you  :  hut 
whosoever  will  be  great  among  you,  let  him  be  your  minis- 
ter; 27.  And  whosoever  will  bo  chief  among  you,  let  him  be 
your  servant  :  28.  Even  as  the  Son  of  Man  came  not  to  be 
ministered  unto,  but  to  minister,  and  to  give  his  life  a  ransom 
for  many.  20.  And  as  they  d«-j.arti'd  from  Jericho,  a  great 
multitude  followed  him. 

30.  And  behold,  two  blind  men  sitting  by  the  way-side, 
when  they  heard  that  Jisus  passed  by,  cried  out,  saying. 
Have  mtrcy  on  u-.  o  Lord.  thou  son  of  David.  31.  And 
the  multitude  rebuked  them,  because  they  should  hold  their 
peace:  but  they  cried  the  more,  saying,  Have  mtrcy  on  us, 

0  L6rd,  thou  son  of  David.     32.  And  Jesus  stood  still,  and 
called  them,  and  said.   What    will  ye   that    I    shall   do  unto 
you?     33.  They  Ray  unto  him.  Lord,  that  our  tyet  may  be 

1  compassion  on  them,  and  touched 

their    eyes:  and   immediately  their  eye-  t.   and 

they  follonrd  him. 

MATT.  xzi.  —  23.  And   when  he  was  com,-   into  the 
temple,    th-  I*    and    the    elders    of    the    people 

eome  unto  him,  u  he  was  tearhii>Lr.  and  said.  i:\  \\hat 
mm&ority  doeut  thou  these  things?  and  who  •/</--•  tine 
this  an  •  And  Jesus  answered  and  said  unto 

i  OIK-    tiling,   which    it"   ye   tell    me, 

1  in    Ukw    vu.     -ill    tell  you    l.v   v.kvt  authority    I   do 


Ex.  32.]  EXERCISES    ON    MODULATION.  133 

things.  25.  The  baptism  of  John,  whence  was  it?  from 
h6aven,  or  of  men  ?  And  they  reasoned  with  themselves, 
saying,  If  we  shall  say,  From  heaven ;  he  will  say  unto  us, 
Why  did  ye  not  then  believe  him  ?  26.  But  if  we  shall  say, 
Of  men :  we  fear  the  people :  for  all  hold  John  as  a  prophet. 
27.  And  they  answered  Jesus  and  said,  We  cannot  tell. 
And  he  said  unto  them,  Neither  tell  I  you  by  what  authority 
I  do  these  things. 

28.  But  what  think  ye  ?  A  certain  man  had  two  sons,  and 
he  came  to  the  first,  and  said,  Son,  go  work  to-day  in  my 
vineyard.  29.  He  answered  and  said,  I  will  not ;  but  after- 
ward he  repented,  and  went.  30.  And  he  came  to  the 
second,  and  said  likewise.  And  he  answered,  1  go,  sir ;  and 
went  not.  Whether  of  them  twain  did  the  will  of  his  father  ? 
They  say  unto  him,  The  first.  Jesus  saith  unto  them,  Verily 
I  say  unto  you,  That  the  publicans  and  harlots  go  into  the 
kingdom  of  God  before  you. 


6.  MATT.  xxv. — 31.  When  the  Son  of  Man  shall  come  in 
his  glory,  and  all  the  holy  angels  with  him,  then  shall  he 
sit  upon  the  throne  of  his  glory :  32.  And  before  him  shall 
be  gathered  all  nations ;  and  he  shall  separate  them  one 
from  another,  as  a  shepherd  divideth  his  sheep  from  the 
goats :  33.  And  he  shall  set  the  sheep  on  his  right  hand,  but 
the  goats  on  the  left.  34.  Then  shall  the  King  say  unto 
them  on  his  right  hand,  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  in- 
herit the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of 
the  world;  35.  For  I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me 
meat :  I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink  :  I  was  a  stranger, 
and  ye  took  me  in :  36.  Naked,  and  ye  clothed  me :  I  was 
sick,  and  ye  visited  me :  I  Avas  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto 
me.  37.  Then  shall  the  righteous  answer  him,  saying,  Lord, 
wk&n  saw  we  thee  an  hungered,  and  fed  thee  ?  or  thirsty,  and 
gave  thee  drink?  38.  Wh&n  saw  we  thee  a  stranger,  and 
took  thee  in?  or  naked,  and  clothed  thee?  39.  Or  whtn 
saw  we  thee  sick,  or  in  prison,  and  came  unto  thee  ?  40. 
And  the  King  shall  answer  and  say  unto  them,  Verily  I  say 
unto  you,  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the 
least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  m£.  41. 
Then  shall  he  say  also  unto  them  on  the  left  hand,  Depart 
from  me,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the 
devil  and  his  angels :  42.  For  I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye 


lill  BXBBClHEft  <ON    Moi'i   I.  Ml  [Kx.  3W. 

gave  me  no  meat:  I  was  thirty,  and  ye  gave  me  no 
43.   I  was  a  stran_r'  r.  and  >•'  t""k  me   nut  //<  :  naked,  and  \>- 
clothed  in«  not:  sick,  and  in  prison,  ami  \«-  visited  me  not. 
1  1.   Then  shall  :  mswer  liiin.  saying.  Lord,  whin  saw 

we  tbee  an  hungered,  or  athir.it,  or  a  stranger,  or  naked,  or 
sick,  or  in  prison,  and  did  not  minister  nut'*  ilu-e  !  4;> 
shall  he  answer  them,  saying.  Yi-rily  I  say  unto  you,  Inas- 
much as  ye  did  it  not  to  one  of  the  least  of  thtat,  ye  did  it 
not  to  me.  46.  And  these  shall  go  away  into  everlasting 
punishment :  but  the  righteous  into  life  eternal. 


7.  ACTS  xn. — 5.  Peter  therefore  was  kept  in  prison  ;  but, 
prayer  was  made  without  ceasing  of  the  church  unto  God 
for  him.  6.  And  when  Herod  would  have  brought  him 
forth,  the  same  night  IVter  was  sleeping  between  two  sol- 
diers, bound  with  two  chains;  and  the  keepers  before  tin- 
door  kept  the  prison.  7.  And,  behold,  the  angel  of  the  Lord 
came  upon  him,  and  a  light  shined  in  the  prison  ;  and  he 
smote  Peter  on  the  side,  and  raised  him  up,  saying, 
up  quickly.  And  his  chains  fell  off  from  his  hands.  8.  And 
the  angel  said  unto  him,  d'tnl  thy-clf,  and  bind  on  tin 
dais;  and  so  he  did.  And  he  saith  unto  him,  Ca>t  thy  gar- 
ment about  thee,  and  follow  me.  0.  And  he  went  out,  and 
followed  him,  and  wist  not  that  it  was  true  which  was  done 
by  the  angel ;  but  thought  he  saw  a  vision.  10.  When  they 
were  past  the  first  and  the  second  ward,  they  came  unto  the 
iron  gate  that  leadeth  unto  the  city  ;  which  opened  unto 
them  of  his  own  accord:  and  they  went  out,  and  passed  on 
through  one  street:  and  forthwith  the  angel  departed  from 
him.  11.  And  when  Peter  \\a>  cmne  to  himself,  h. 
Now  I  know  of  a  surety,  that  tin-  Lord  hath  sent  lii- 
and  hath  de!i\ered  me  out  of  the  hand  of  Ilen-d,  ;iiid  from 

all     the     expeet.ition     of    tin-     people     of    the     .lew-.         1.'.     And 

\\hen   he    had   considered    the   lliing.   he  came   to  the   house 
of  Mary    ti  i    of  .lolm.   whose  surname  was   Murk, 

aliered  together,  praying.      1 
kiiock.-d   at   the  door  of  the  gate,  a  damsel  cam.-  to 

:    Kh'»dii.      14.    And   when   she  km  u     i 

she  opened,  not  the  gate  for  gladness,  but  ran  in,  and 

told  how  Piter  stood  before  the  gate,      i.,    And   tht.-y  laid 

unto  her,  Thou   art  mad.      Dut  she  constantly  affirmed   that 

it  was  •  Then  said  they.    It    i>   his   angel.      1(5.   But 


Ex.  32.]  EXERCISES    ON    MODULATION. 


135 


Peter  continued  knocking.  And  when  they  had  opened  the 
door,  and  saw  him,  they  were  astonished.  17.  But  he  beck- 
oning unto  them  with  the  hand  to  hold  their  peace,  declared 
unto  them  how  the  Lord  had  brought  him  out  of  the  prison. 
And  he  said,  Go,  show  these  things  unto  James  and  to  the 
brethren.  9  And  he  departed,  and  went  into  another  place. 


EXERCISES. 


PART  XX.  % 

• 

The  reader  will  obaerve  that  rhetorical  notation  ie  but  partially 
applied  in  the  following  Exerciser 

EXERCISE   33. 
Character  of  Columbia.  "*  IRVIMO. 

"  A   peculiar  trait  in  his  rich    and    varied  character, 
remains  to  be  noticed;  that  ardent  and  enthusiasti&tim- 
agination,   which   threw  a  magniBcence  over  his  whole 
style  of   thinking.       Herrera   intimates,   that    he    hadfta 
5  talent  for  poetry,  and  some  slight  traces  of  it  are  on  %p-  • 
ord  in  the  book  of  prophecies,  which  he  prc-rnted  to  the« 
Catholic  sovereigns.       But  his   poetical   temperament  is 
discernible  throughout  all  his  writings,  and  in  all  his  ac- 
tions.   It  spread  a  golden  and  glorious  world  around  him, 

10  and  tinurt'd  every  thin^  with  its  own  gorgeous  colors. 
It  betrayed  him  into  visionary  speculations,  which  sub- 
jected him  to  the  sneers  and  carilings  of  men  of  cooler 
and  safer,  but  more  groveling  minds.  Such  were  the 
conjectures  formed  on  the  coast  of  Paria,  about  the  form 

15  of  the  earth,  and  t!  rial  para-i 

about  the  mines  of  Ophir,  in  Hispaniola,  and  of  the  Au- 
rea  Chersonesus,  in  Veragua;  and  such  was  tin-  heroic 
scheme  of  the  en  tin-  reco\.-r\  «-f  the  holy 

sepulchre.  It  mingled  with  his  religion,  and  filled  his 
mind  with  solemn  and  meditations,  on  m\ 

passages  of  the  Scriptures,  and  the  »hado\v\  portents  of 
the  :  nflice  in  and 

made   him   c«  •  nfent  sent  forth  upon  a 

sublime  and  awful  mission.  •  impulses  and  su- 

25  pernatural  visions  from  the  !  h  as  the  voice  he 

imagined  spok«   to  him  in  comfort,  amidst  th«  troubles 


Ex.38.]  EXERCISES. PART  II.  137 

of  Hispaniola,  and  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  on  the  dis- 
astrous coast  of  Veragua. 

"  He  was  decidedly  a  visionary,  but  a  visionary  of  an 
uncommon  and  successful  kind.  The  manner  in  which 
5  his  ardent  imagination  and  mercurial  nature  were  con- 
trolled by  a  powerful  judgment,  and  directed  by  an  acute 
sagacity,  is  the  most  extraordinary  feature  in  his  charac- 
ter. Thus  governed,  his  imagination,  instead  of  wasting 
itself  in  idle  soarings,  lent  wings  to  his  judgment,  and 

10  bore  it  away  to  conclusions  at  which  common  minds  could 
never  have  arrived ;  nay,  which  they  could  not  perceive 
when  pointed  out. 

"  To  his  intellectual  vision  it  was  given,  to  read  in 
the  signs  of  the  times,  and  the  reveries  of  past  ages,  the 

15  indications  of  an  unknown  world,  as  soothsayers  were 
said  to  read  predictions  in  the  stars,  and  to  foretell  events 
from  the  visions  of  the  night.  '  His  soul,'  observes  a 
Spanish  writer,  '  was  superior  to  the  age  in  which  he 
lived.  For  him  was  reserved  the  great  enterprise  to 

20  plow  a  sea,  which  had  given  rise  to  so  many  fables,  and 
to  decipher  the  mystery  of  his  time.' 

"  With  all  the  visionary  fervor  of  his  imagination, 
its  fondest  dreams  fell  short  of  the  reality.  He  died  in 
ignorance  of  the  real  grandeur  of  his  discovery.  Until 

25  his  last  breath,  he  entertained  the  idea,  that  he  had  merely 
opened  a  new  way  to  the  old  resorts  of  opulent  com- 
merce, and  had  discovered  some  of  the  wild  regions  of 
the  East.  He  supposed  Hispaniola  to  be  the  ancient 
Ophir  which  had  been  visited  by  the  ships  of  Solomon, 

30  and  that  Cuba  and  Terra  Firma,  were  but  remote  parts 
of  Asia.  What  visions  of  glory  would  have  broke  upon 
his  mind,  could  he  have  known  that  he  had  indeed 
discovered  a  new  continent,  equal  to  the  whole  of  the 
old  world  in  magnitude,  and  separated  by  two  vast  oceans 

35  from  all  the  earth  hitherto  known  by  civilized  man ;  and 
how  would  his  magnanimous  spirit  have  been  consoled, 
amidst  the  chills  of  age,  and  cares  of  penury,  the  neg- 
lect of  a  fickle  public,  and  the  injustice  of  an  ungrateful 
king,  could  he  have  anticipated  the  splendid  empires 

40  which  were  to  spread  over  the  beautiful  world  he  had 
discovered,  and  the  nations  and  tongues  and  languages 
which  were  to  fill  its  lands  with  his  renown,  and  to  revere 
and  bless  his  name  to  the  latest  posterity  ! 


138  KcisEs.  —  f  ART  ii.  [Ex.  84,  85. 


31. 

The   Victim.  —  1'nii.ADKi.iMiiA  CA-- 

1   "  Hand  me  the  bowl,  ye  jovial  hand," 
I  !••  said  —  "  'twill  rouse  mv  mini)  ;" 
But  conscience  sei/ed  liis  trembling  hand 
And  dash'd  the  cup  to  earth. 

•J   He  look'd  around,  lie  blush'd,  la-  laugh'd, 

He  sij>p'd  the  sparkling  \v, 
In  it  he  read  —  "  who  drinks  this  draught, 
Shall  dig  a  ;/iim/<r<r'.v  gra\ 

3  He  started  up,  like  one  from  si 

And  trembled  for  his  life  ; 
He  gazed,  and  saw  —  his  children  weep, 
He  saw  his  weeping  wife. 

4  In  his  deep  dream  he  had  not  felt 

Their  agonies  and  fears  ; 
But  now  he  saw  them  as  they  knelt, 
To  plead  with  prayers  and  tears. 

5  But  the  foul  fiend  her  hateful  spell 

Threw  o'er  his  wilder'd  mind, 
He  saw  in  every  hope  a  hell  ; 
!!••  was  to  reason  blind. 

6  He  arras  p'd  the  bowl  to  seek  relief; 

No  more  his  conscience  said  : 
His  bosom  friend  was  sunk  in  grief, 
I  lis  children  begg'd  for  bread. 

7  Through  haunts  of  horror  and  of  strife, 

lie  pass'd  down  life's  dark  tide; 
lie  cursed  his  beggar'd  babes  and  wife; 
He  curM-d  his  God  —  and  died! 


r.xr.unsi:  35. 

Conflagration,  at  Rome  of  an  Amphitheatre. — CROLT. 

"  Rome   was   an  ocean  of  flame.      Hight   and  depth 
were  with  red  surge*,  that  rolled  before  the  blast 


Ex.  35.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  139 

like  an  endless  tide. — The  billows  burst  up  the  sides  of 
the  hills,  which  they  turned  into  instant  volcanoes,  ex- 
ploding volumes  of  smoke  and  fire ;  then  plunged  into 
the  depths  in  a  hundred  glowing  cataracts,  then  climbed 
5  and  consumed  again.  The  distant  sound  of  the  city 
in  her  convulsion  went  to  the  soul.  The  air  was  filled 
with  the  steady  roar  of  the  advancing  flame,  the  crash 
of  falling  houses,  and  the  hideous  outcry  of  the  myriads 
flying  through  the  streets,  or  surrounded  and  perishing 

10  in  the  conflagration.  ********A11  was  clamor,  violent 
struggle,  and  helpless  death.  Men  and  women  of  the 
highest  rank  were  on  foot,  trampled  by  the  rabble  that 
had  then  lost  all  respect  of  conditions.  One  dense  mass 
of  miserable  life,  irresistible  from  its  weight,  crushed  by 

15  the  narrow  streets,  and  scorched  by  the  flames  over  their 
heads,  rolled  through'  the  gates  like  ati  endless  stream  of 
black  lava.  *  *  *  *  * 

"  The  fire  had  originally  broken  out  upon  the  Pala- 
tine, and  hot  smoke  that  wrapped  and  half  blinded  us, 

20  hung  thick  as  night  upon  the  wrecks  of  pavilions  and 
palaces ;  but  the  dexterity  and  knowledge  of  my  inexpli- 
cable guide  carried  us  on.  It  was  in  vain  that  I  insist- 
ed upon  knowing  the  purpose  of  this  terrible  traverse. 
He  pressed  his  hand  on  his  heart  in  reassurance  of  his 

25  fidelity,  and  still  spurred  on.  We  now  passed  under  the 
shade  of  an  immense  range  of  lofty  buildings,  whose 
gloomy  and  solid  strength  seemed  to  bid  defiance  to 
chance  and  time.  A  sudden  yell  appalled  me.  A  ring 
of  fire  swept  round  its  summit ;  burning  cordage,  sheets 

30  of  canvas,  and  a  shower  of  all  things  combustible,  flew 
into  the  air  above  our  heads.  An  uproar  followed,  un- 
like all  that  I  had  ever  heard,  a  hideous  mixture  of 
howls,  shrieks  and  groans.  The  flames  rolled  down  the 
narrow  street  before  us,  and  made  the  passage  next  to 

35  impossible.  While  we  hesitated,  a  huge  fragment  of  the 
building  heaved,  as  if  in  an  earthquake,  and  fortunate- 
ly for  us  fell  inwards.  The  whole  scene  of  terror  was 
then  open.  The  great  amphitheatre  of  Statilius  Taurus 
had  caught  fire :  the  stage,  with  its  inflammable  furni- 

40  ture,  was  intensely  blazing  below.  The  flames  were 
wheeling  up,  circle  above  circle,  through  the  seventy 
thousand  seats  that  rose  from  the  ground  to  the  roof.  I 
stood  in  unspeakable  awe  and  wonder  on  the  side  of  this 


I  lo  [Kx.  35,  86. 


colossal  cavern,  this  mighty  N-mp!.-  of  the  city  of  fire- 
At  length  a  desci-nding  blast  cleared  away  the  smoke 
that  covered  the  arena.  —  The  cause  of  those  horrid  crie» 
was  now  visible.  Tin-  wild  boasts  kept  for  the  games 

45  had  broken  from  their  dens.  —  Maddened  by  affright 
and  pain,  li<>:  wolves,  whole  herds  of 

the  monsters  of  India  and  Africa,  were  inclosed  in  an 
impassable  barrier  of  fire.  They  bounded,  they  fought, 
they  screamed,  they  ton-  ;  they  ran  howling  round  and 

50  round  the  circle  ;  they  made  desperate  leaps  upwards 
through  the  blaze  ;  they  were  flung  back,  and  fell  only 
to  fasten  their  fangs  in  each  other,  and,  with  their  parch- 
ing jaws  bathed  in  blood,  die  r  I  looked  anx- 

iously to   see  whether  any  human   being   was   involved 

65  in  this   fearful   catastrophe.      To   my  gn-at    n-lief,  I   could 
see  none.      The  keepers  and  attendants  had  obvi 
escaped.     As  I  expressed  my  gladness,   I  was  startled 
by  a  loud   cry  from  my  guide,  the  first  sound  that  I  had 
heard  him  utter.     He  pointed  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 

60  amphitheatre.     There  indeed  sat  an  object  of  melancholy 
interest  ;  a  man  who  had  been  either  unable  to  e- 
or  had  determined  to  die.     Escape   was  now  impossible. 
He  sat  in  desperate  calmness  on  his  funeral   pile.     He 
•was   a   gigantic    Ethiopian    slave,   entirely    naked.       He 

65  had  chosen  his  place,  as  if  in  mockery,  on  the  imperial 
throne  ;  the  fire  was  above  him  and  around  him  ;  and 
under  this  tremendous  canopy  he  gazed,  without  the 
movement  of  a  muscle,  on  the  combat  of  the  wild  beasts 
below;  a  solitary  sovereign,  with  the  whole  tremendous 

70  game  played  for  himself,  and  inaccessible  to  the  power 
of  man." 


EXERCISE   36. 

Tlf        '  '  '  ST. 

1    f'hain'd  in  the  market  place  he  stood, 

.me, 
Amid  the  gathering  multitude 

That  shrunk  to  hi-ar  his  name, — 
All  stern  of  look  and  strong  of  limb, 
Hi«  dark  eye  on  the  ground, — 


EX.  36.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  141 

And  silently  they  gazed  on  him, 
As  on  a  lion  bound. 

2  Vainly,  but  well,  that  chief  had  fought, 

He  was  a  captive  now  ; 
Yet  pride,  that  fortune  humbles  not, 

Was  written  on  his  brow. 
The  scars  his  dark  broad  bosom  wore, 

Show'd  warrior  true  and  brave  ; 
A  prince  among  his  tribe  befgre, 

He  could  not  be  a  slave. 

3  Then  to  his  conqueror  he  spake — 

(  o  )  "  My  brother  is  a  king  ; 
Undo  this  necklace  from  my  neck, 

And  take  this  bracelet  ring. 
And  send  me  where  my  brother  reigns, 

And  I  will  fill  thy  hands 
With  store  of  ivory  from  the  plains, 

And  gold  dust  from  the  sands." 

4  (=:)  "  Not  for  thy  ivory  nor  thy  gold 

Will  I  unbind  thy  chain; 
That  bloody  hand  shall  never  hold 

The  battle  spear  again. 
A  price  thy  nation  never  gave 

Shall  yet  be  paid  for  thee ; 
For  thou  shalt  be  the  Christian's  slave, 

In  lands  beyond  the  sea." 

5  (")  Then  wept  the  warrior  chief,  and  bade 

To  shred  his  locks  away ; 
And,  one  by  one,  each  heavy  braid 

Before  the  victor  lay. 
Thick  were  the  plaited  locks,  and  long, 

And  deftly  hidden  there, 
Shone  many  a  wedge  of  gold  among 

The  dark  and  crisped  hair. 

6  (<)  "Look,  feast  thy  greedy  eye  with  gold, 

Long  kept  for  sorest  need  ; 
Take  it — (thou  askest  sums  untold — ) 
And  say  that  I  am  freed. 


14*  }  — PART  ii.         [Ex.  :<< 

Take  it — ( — )  my  wife,  the  long,  long  day 

Weeps  by  the  cocoa  tree. 
And  my  young  children  leave  their  play, 

And  ask  in  vain  for  me." 

7  "  I  take  thy  gold — but  I  have  made 

Thy  fetter-  fast  and  strong, 
And  mean  that  by  the  cocoa  shade. 

Thy  wife  shall  wait  thee  long." 
Strong  was  the  agony  that  shook 

The  captive  s  frame  to  hear, 
And  the  proud  meaning  of  his  look 

Was  changed  to  mortal  fear. 

8  His  heart  was  broken — crazed  his  brain, — 

At  once  his  eye  grew  wild, 
He  struggled  fiercely  with  his  chain, 

per'd,  and  wept,  and  smil'd  ; 
Yet  wore  not  long  those  fatal  bands, 

For  once,  at  shut  of  d 
They  drew  him  forth  upon  the  sands, 

The  foul  hyena's  prey. 


I:\KKCISI;  37. 
Riches  of  a  Poor  Barber. — EDINBURGH  PAPER. 

Coosclenlioai  regard  to  the  P*bbalh,  providentially  rcwanlMk 

In  the  city  of  Bath,  during  the  last  century,  lived  .1 
barber,  who  in:id«-   a    prartice  of  following  his  ordinary 
occupation  on  the   Lord'-  day.     As  he  was  pursuing  his 
morning's  employment,  ho  happened   to   look  into  some 
5  place  of  w«>r>hip,  ju-t  as  the  mitn-ter  \\  .  >ut  his 

text,  "  Remember  the  Sabbath  day,  to  keep  it  h«>ly." 
He  listened  IOTILT  etxm^h  to  he  n.nvinccd  that  he  was 
constantly  breaking  the  laws  of  (Jod  and  man,  by  shav- 
ing and  dn  ord's  dny  lie 
10  lx.vanu-unea.-y.  and  went  with  a  heavy  heart  t<>  his  Sab 
bath  task.  At  length  he  l.xik  murage,  and  opened  his 
mind  to  the  minister,  who  ad\ised  him  t«>  ^ive  up  Sab- 
bath dressing.  an<l  w^-r-hip  (iod  ll<  replied,  beg- 
gary would  '  'lenc-c.  He  had  a  flourish- 
:!d  almost  all  \to  lo*t.  At  length 


Ex.  37. J  EXERCISES. PART    II.  143 

after  many  a  sleepless  night  spent  in  weeping  and  pray- 
ing, he  was  determined  to  cast  all  his  care  upon  God,  as 
the  more  he  reflected  the  more  his  duty  became  apparent. 
He  discontinued  Sabbath  dressing,  went  constantly  and 

20  early  to  the  public  services  of  religion,  and  soon  enjoyed 
that  satisfaction  of  mind  which  is  one  of  the  rewards  of 
doing  our  duty,  and  that  peace  of  God  which  the  world 
can  neither  give  nor  take  away.  The  consequences  he 
foresaw  actually  followed.  His  genteel  customers  left 

25  him,  and  he  was  nicknamed  a  Puritan  or  Methodist.  He 
was  obliged  to  give  up  his  fashionable  shop,  and  in  the 
course  of  years  became  so  reduced,  as  to  take  a  cellar 
under  the  old  market-house,  and  shave  the  common 
people. 

30  One  Saturday  evening,  between  light  and  dark,  a  stran- 
ger from  one  of  the  coaches,  asking  for  a  barber,  was 
directed  by  the  ostler,  to  the  cellar  opposite.  Coming 
in  hastily,  he  requested  to  be  shavecl  quickly,  while  they 
changed  horses,  as  he  did  not  like  to  violate  the  Sabbath. 

35  This  was  touching  the  barber  on  a  tender  chord. — He 
burst  into  tears — asked  the  stranger  to  lend  him  a  half- 
penny to  buy  a  candle,  as  it  was  not  light  enough  to 
shave  him  with  safety.  He  did  so,  revolving  in  his 
mind  the  extreme  poverty  to  which  the  poor  man  must 

40  be  reduced.  When  shaved,  he  said,  "There  must  be 
something  extraordinary  in  your  history,  which  I  have 
not  now  time  to  hear.  Here  is  half  a  crown  for  you. 
When  I  return,  I  will  call  and  investigate  your  case. 
What  is  your  name  ?"  "  William  Reed,"  said  the  as- 

45  tonished  barber.  "  William  Reed  !"  echoed  the  stranger : 
"William  Reed  ;  by  your  dialect,  you  are  from  the  west?" 
"  Yes,  sir  !  from  Kingston,  near  Taunton  !"  "  Wil- 
liam Reed,  from  Kingston,  near  Taunton !  What  was 
your  father's  name?"  "Thomas."  "Had  he  any 

50  brother  ?"*>"  Yes,  sir;  one  after  whom  I  was  named; 
but  he  went  to  the  Indies,  and  as  we  never  heard  from  him 
we  supposed  him  to  be  dead."  "  Come  along,  follow 
me,"  said  the  stranger,  "  I  am  going  to  see  a  person  who 
says  his  name  is  William  Reed,  of  Kingston,  near  Taun- 

£5  ton.  Come  and  confront  him.  If  you  prove  to  be  in- 
deed he  who  you  say  you  are,  I  have  glorious  news  for 
you.  Your  uncle  is  dead,  and  has  left  an  immense 
fortune,  which  I  will  put  you  in  possession  of  when  all 
legal  debts  are  removed." 


1H  IAI  K.  ISM.— PART    II  [Ex.  87,  38 

60       They  went  by  the  coach — saw  the  pretended  William 
Reed,  and   proved  him  to  be  an  impostor.     Tin    stran- 
ger, who  was  a  pious  attorney,  was  soon  legally  sa1 
of  t:  's   identity,    and   told    him    that   he  had  ad- 

vertise,!  him  in  vain.      Providence  had  now  thrown   him 

<!5  in  his  way,  in  a  most  extraordinary  manner,  and  lie  had 
much  pleasure  in  transferring  a  ^reat  many  thousand 
pounds  to  a  worthy  man — the  rightful  heir  of  the  prop- 
erly. Thus  was  man's  extremity,  God's  opportunity. 
Had  the  poor  barber  posse-  naif-penny,  or 

70  had  credit  for  a  candle,  he  might  have  remained  unknown 
for  years  ;  but  he  trusted  God,  who  never  said,  "Seek  ye 
my  face  in  vain." 


KXKItCISK    38. 

Burning  of  the  Fame  and  escape  of  tlte  Paxsengert. 
NEW  YORK  ATLAS. 

"  We  embarked  on  the  2d  inst.  and  sailed  at  daylight 
for  England,  from  the  East  Indies,  with  e\  ery  prospect  of 
a  quick  and  comfortable  passage.     The  ship  was  « 
thing    we  could    wish  ;    and    having   closed    my  charge 
5  here,  much  to  my  satisfaction,  it  was  one  of  the  h 

days  of  my  life.     We   were,  perhaps,  t'x>  happy;  for  in 
the  evening  came  a  sad  reverse.     Sophia  had  just  gone 
to  bed,  and  I  had  thrown  off  half  my  clothes,  when 
of  fire  !  fire! — roused  us  from  our  calm  content,  and  in 

10  five  minutes  the  whole  ship  was  in  flame>  !  1  ran  to  ex- 
amine whence  the  flames  principally  issued,  and  found 
that  the  fire  had  its  origin  immediately  under  our  rahin. 
(JL)  Down  with  the  boats! — Where  is-  Sophia?  Here. 
— The  children?  Hrre. — A  rope  to  the  side!  I 

13  Lady  Raffles.     Give  her  to  me,  says  one.     1  'II  tai, 

says  the  captain.     Throw  the  '/'////x)«t/<?r^gverboard.     It 
cannot  be  got  at  ;  it  is   in  the  maga/ine.  cloM-   fo  the  lire. 
Stand  clear  of  the  p..«, 
Wa--  -!— Whe  ••  into  the 

20  bo  ! — come  into  the  l»«.at.      Push  off, 

puxh  off.      Stand  clear  of  tli'  hip. 

(^•)  All  this  passed  much  ijuickVr  tl,  A  rite  it. 

We  push)   !  "IT.  and  a>  we  did  so,  the  fhmes  hurst  out  of 
our  cabin    window,  and    the  whole  af 


Ex.   38.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  145 

was  in  flames,  The  masts  and  sails  not  taking  fire,  we 
moved  to  a  distance  sufficient  to  avoid  tlie  immediate 
explosion ;  but  the  flames  were  coming  out  of  the  main 
hatchway ;  and  seeing  the  rest  of  the  crew,  with  the 

25  captain,  still  on  board,  we  pulled  back  to  her  under  the 
bows,  so  as  to  be  more  distant  from  the  powder.  As 
we  approached,  we  perceived  that  the  people  on  board 
were  getting  into  another  boat  on  the  opposite  side.  She 
pushed  off ;  we  hailed  her ;  have  you  all  on  board  ? 

30  Yes,  all,  save  one.  Who  is  he  ?  Johnson,  sick  in  his 
cot.  Can  we  save  him  ?  No,  impossible.  The  flames 
were  issuing  from  the  hatchway.  At  this  moment,  the 
poor  fellow,  scorched,  I  imagine,  by  the  flames,  roared 
out  most  lustily,  having  run  upon  the  deck.  I  will  go 

35  for  him,  says  the  captain.  The  two  boats  then  came  to- 
gether, and  we  took  out  some  of  the  persons  from  the 
captain's  boat,  which  was  overladen.  He  then  pulled 
under  the  bowsprit  of  the  ship,  and  picked  the  poor 
fellow  up.  Are  you  all  safe  ?  Yes,  we  have  got  the 

40  man :  all  lives  safe.  Pull  off  from  the  ship.  Keep  your 
eye  on  the  star,  Sir  Stamford.  There's  one  scarcely 
visible. 

We  then  hauled  close  'to  each  other,  and  found  the 
captain  fortunately  had  a  compass,  but  we  had 'no  light 

45  except  from  the  ship.  Our  distance  from  Bencoolen,  we 
estimated  to  be  about  fifty  miles,  in  a  southwest  direc- 
tion. There  being  no  landing  place  to  the  southward  of 
Bencoolen,  our  only  chance  was  to  regain  that  port. 
The  captain  then  undertook  to  lead,  and  we  to  follow, 

50  in  a  N.  N.  E.  course,  as  well  as  we  could :  no  chance, 
no  possibility  being  left,  that  we  could  again  approach 
the  ship ;  for  she  was  now  one  splendid  flame,  fore 
and  aft,  and  aloft,  her  masts  and  sails  in  a  blaze,  and 
rocking  to  and  fro,  threatening  to  fall  in  an  instant. 

55  There  goes  -her  mizen-mast ;  pull  away,  my  boys ;  there 
goes  the  gunpowder.  Thank  God  !  thank  God  ! 

You  may  judge  of  our  situation  without  further  par- 
ticulars. The  alarm  was  given  at  about  twenty  minutes 
past  eight,  and  in  less  than  ten  minutes  she  was  in 

60  flames.  There  was  not  a  soul  on  board  at  half-past  eight, 
and  in  less  than  ten  minutes  afterwards  she  was  one  grand 
mass  of  fire. 

My  only  apprehension  was  the  want  of  boats  to  hold 
7 


140  EXERCISES. PART    II.  [Ex.  38. 

the  people,  as  there  was  not  time  to  have  got  out  the 
long-boat,  or  to   make  a  raft.     All  we  had  lo  rely  upon 
were    two  small    quarter-boats,    which    fortunately 
lowered  without  accident;  and  in  these  two  small,  open 

65  boats,  without  a  drop  of  water  or  grain  of  food,  or  a  rag 
of  covering,  except  what  we  happened  at  the  moment 
to  have  on  our  backs,  we  embarked  on  the  ocean,  thank- 
ful to  God  for  his  mercies  !  Poor  Sophia,  having  been 
taken. out  of  her  bed,  had  nothing  on  but  ln-r  wrapper; 

70  neither  shoes  nor  stockings.  The  children  just  as  taken 
out  of  bed,  whence  one  had  been  snatched  after  the 
flames  had  attacked  it.  In  short,  there  was  not  time 
for  any  one  to  think  of  more  than  two  things.  Can  the 
ship  be  saved  ? — No.  Let  us  save  ourselves  then.  All 

75  else  was  swallowed  up  in  one  grand  ruin. 

To  make  the  best  of  our  misfortune,  we  availed  our- 
selves of  the  light  from  the  ship  to  steer  a  tolerably 
good  course  towards  the  shore.  She  continued  to  burn 
till  about  midnight,  when  the  saltpetre,  which  she  had 

80  on  board,  took  fire,  and  sent  up  one  of  the  most  splen- 
did and  brilliant  flames  that  ever  was  seen,  illuminating 
the  horizon  in  every  direction,  to  an  extent  not  less  than 
fifty  miles,  and  casting  that  kind  of  blue  light  over  us, 
which  is  of  all  others  most  horrible.  She  burnt  and  con- 

85  tinued  in  flame,  in  this  style,  for  about  an  hour  or  two, 
when  w(  of  the  object  in  clouds  of  smoke. 

Neither  Nilson  nor  Mr.  Bell,  our  medical  friend,  who 
had  accompanied  us,  had  saved  their  coats ;  but  the 
tail  of  mine,  with  a  pocket-handkerchief,  served  to 

00  keep  Sophia's  feet  warm,  and  we  made  breeches  for  the 
children  with  our  neck-cloths.  Rain  now  came  on,  but 
fortunately  it  was  not  of  long  continuance,  and  we  got 
dry  again.  The  night  became  serene  and  starlight. 
We  were  now  certain  of  our  course,  and  the  ni-  • 

95  haved  manfully;  they  rowed  incessantly,  Ihd  with 

heart  and  spirit  ;  and  never  did  poor  mortals  look  out 
more  for  daylight  and  for  land,  than  we  did.  Not 
that  our  sufferings  or  grounds  of  complaint  were  any 
thing  to  what  In  "'fallen  others ;  but  from  So^- 

100  phia's  delicate  health,  as  well  as  my  own,  and  the 
stormy  natur-  I  felt  perfectly  convinced  that 

we  were   unable   t  ; on,  and  exposure  to 

sun  and  weather  many  days  ;  nnd  aware  of  the  rapidity 


Ex.  38,  39.]  EXERCISES — PART  ii.  147 

of  the  currents,  I  feared  we  might  fall  to  the  southward 
of  the  port. 

At  daylight,  we  recognized  the  coast,  and  Rat  Island, 
which  gave  us  great  spirits ;  and  though  we  found  our- 

105  selves  much  to  the  southward  of  the  port,  we  considered 
ourselves  almost  at  home.  Sophia  had  gone  through  the 
night  better  than  could  have  been  expected,  and  we 
continued  to  pull  on  with  all  our  strength.  About  eight 
or  nine,  we  saw  a  ship  standing  to  us  from  the  Roads. 

110  They  had  seen  the  flames  on  shore,  and  sent  out  ves- 
sels to  our  relief;  and  here  certainly  came  a  minister 
of  Providence  in  the  character  of  a  minister  of  the  Gos- 
pel ;  for  the  first  person  I  recognized  was  one  of  the 
missionaries.  They  gave  us  a  bucket  of  water,  and  we 

115  took  the  captain  on  board  as  a  pilot.  The  wind,  how- 
ever, was  adverse,  and  we  could  not  reach  the  shore, 
and  took  to  the  ship,  where  we  got  some  refreshment, 
and  shelter  from  the  sun.  By  this  time  Sophia  was 
quite  exhausted,  fainting  continually.  About  two  o'clock, 

120  we  landed  safe  and  sound:  and  no  words  of  mine  can 
do  justice  to  the  expressions  of  feeling,  sympathy,  and 
kindness,  by  which  we  were  hailed  by  every  one.  If 
any  proof  had  been  wanting,  that  my  administration  had 
been  satisfactory  here,  we  had  it  unequivocally  from 

125 all.  There  was  not  a  dry  eye;  and  as  we  drove  back 
to  our  former  home,  loud  was  the  cry  of — "  God  be 
praised." 


EXERCISE   39. 
The  Hour  of  Prayer. — MRS.  HEMANS. 

1  Child,  amidst  the  flowers  at  play, 
While  the  red  light  fades  away ; 
Mother,  with  thine  earnest  eye, 
Ever  following  silently ; 
Father,  by  the  breeze  at  eve 
Call'd  thy  harvest-work  to  leave, 
Pray ! — Ere  yet  the  dark  hours  be, 
Lift  the  heart,  and  bend  the  knee. 

2  Traveller,  in  the  stranger's  land, 
Far  from  thine  own  household  band ; 


148  EXI  i  ,-\KT  ii.          [Ex.  39,  10. 

Mourner,  haunted  by  the  tone 
Of  a  Mil.-.-  iV.iin  tliis  world  gone; 
Captive,  in  whose  narrow  cell 
Sunshine  hath  not  leave,  to  dwell, 

r  on  the  darkening  sea, 
Lift  the  heart,  and  bend  the  knee. 

'  .trrior,  that  from  battle  won, 

at  set  of  sun  ; 
•in.  <»'(•[-  the  lowly  slain, 
Weeping  on  his  burial-plain  ; 
Ye  that  triumph,  yC  that  sigh, 
Kindred  by  one  holy  tie ! 

»-n's  tir>t  ."-tar  alike  ye  see — 
r't  the  heart,  and  bend  the  knee! 


i:\ERCISE  40. 
My  Mother  8  Grave. — AXO.VYMOUB. 

It  was  thirteen  years  since  my  mother's  death,  when 
after  a  long  absence  fmrn  my  native  village,  I  stood  be- 
side the  sacred  mound  beneath  which  I  had  seen  her 
buried.  Since  that  mournful  period,  a  great  change  had 
5  come  over  me.  My  childish  years  had  passed  away, 
and  with  them  my  youthful  character.  The  world  was 
altered  too;  and  as  I  stood  at  my  mother's  grave,  I 
could  hardly  realize  that  I  was  the  same  thoughtless, 
happy  creature,  whose  cheeks  she  so  often  kissed  in  an 

10  excess  of  tenderness.  But  the  varied  events  of  thirteen 
years  had  not  effaced  the  remembrance  of  that  mother's 
.-mile.  It  seemed  as  if  I  had  seen  her  but  yesterday — 
as  if  the  blessed  sound  of  her  well-remembered  voice 
was  in  my  ear.  The  gay  dreams  of  my  infancy  and 

15  childhood  were  brought   I  my  mind, 

that  had  it  not  been  for  one  bitter  n  ;,  the  tears 

I  shed  would  have  been  gentle  and  icfimliiay.     Ti 
cumstance  may  seem  a  trifling  one — but  the  thought  of 
it  now  pains  my  heart,  and  :  .  that  those  children 

20  who  have  parents  to  love  them,  may  learn  to  value  them 
as  they  ought. 

My  mother  had  been  ill  a  long  time,  and  I  had  be- 


Ex.  40.]  EXERCISES PART    II.  149 

come  so  accustomed  to  her  pale  face  and  weak  voice, 
that  I  was  not  frightened  at  them,  as  children  usually 
are.  At  first,  it  is  true,  I  sobbed  violently ;  but  when, 
day  after  day,  I  returned  from  school,  and  found  her  the 

25  same,  I  began  to  believe  she  would  always  be  spared  to 
me ;  but  they  told  me  she  would  die. 

One  day  when  I  had  lost  my  place  in  the  class,  and 
done  my  work  wrong  side  outward,  I  came  home  discour- 
aged, and  fretful ; — I  went  to  my  mother's  chamber.  She 

SO  was  paler  than  usual,  but  she  met  me  with  the  same  af- 
fectionate smile  that  always  welcomed  my  return.  Alas  ! 
when  I  look  back,  through  the  lapse  of  thirteen  years, 
I  think  my  heart  must  have  been  stone,  not  to  have  been 
melted  by  it.  She  requested  me  to  go  down  stairs,  and 

35  bring  her  a  glass  of  water ; — I  pettishly  asked  why  she 
did  not  call  a  domestic  to  do  it.  With  a  look  of  mild 
reproach  which  I  shall  never  forget  if  I  live  to  be  a  hun- 
dred years  old,  she  said,  '  And  will  not  my  daughter  bring 
a  glass  of  water,  for  her  poor  sick  mother  ?' 

40  I  went  and  brought  her  the  water,  but  I  did  not  do 
it  kindly.  Instead  of  smiling  and  kissing  her,  as  I  was 
wont  to  do,  I  set  the  glass  down  very  quickly  and  left 
the  room.  After  playing  a  short  time,  I  went  to  bed 
without  bidding  my  mother  good  night ;  but  when  alone 

45  in  my  room,  in  darkness  and  silence,  I  remembered  how 
pale  she  looked,  and  how  her  voice  trembled  when  she 
said,  '  Will  not  my  daughter  bring  a  glass  of  water  for 
her  poor  sick  mother  ?'  I  couldn't  sleep.  I  stole  into  her 
chamber  to  ask  forgiveness.  She  had  sunk  into  an  easy 

50  slumber,  and  they  told  me  I  must  not  waken  her.  I  did 
not  tell  any  one  what  troubled  me,  but  stole  back  to  my 
bed,  resolved  to  rise  early  in  the  morning,  and  tell  her 
how  sorry  I  was  for  my  conduct. 

The  sun  was  shining  brightly  when  I  awoke,  and  hur- 

55  rying  on  my  clothes,  I  hastened  to  my  mother's  cham- 
ber. She  was  dead  !  she  never  spoke  more — never  smiled 
upon  me  again — and  when  I  touched  the  hand  that  used 
to  rest  upon  my  head  in  blessing,  it  was  so  cold  that 
it  made  me  start.  I  bowed  down  by  her  side,  and  sob- 

60  bed  in  the  bitterness  of  my  heart.  I  thought  then  I 
wished  I  might  die,  and  be  buried  with  her ;  and  old  as 
I  now  am,  I  would  give  worlds  were  they  mine  to  give, 
could  my  mother  but  have  lived  to  tell  me  she  forgave 


150  EXERCI3KH. PART    II.  [Ex.  40,  41. 

my   childish  ingratitude.     But   I   cannot  call  her  back; 
65  and  when  1  st.-nnl  I*1,   i  whenever  I  think  of 

her  manifold  kindness,  the  memory  of  that  reproachful 
look  she  gave  me,  will  bite  like  a  serpent,  and  sting  like 
an  adder. 


J:\KKCISI-:  41. 

A  Tale  of  Waterloo. — ANONYMOUS. 

About  the  middle  of  the  night  I  received  a  visit  from 
a  young  man,  with  whom  I  had  formed  an  intimate  ac- 
quaintance. He  was  the  only  son  of  a  gentleman  of 
large  property  in  the  South  of  Ireland  ;  but  ha\iii'_r  formed 
5  an  attachment  to  a  beautiful  girl  in  humble  life,  and 
married  her  against  the  will  of  his  father,  he  had  been 
disinherited  and  turned  out  of  doors.***** 

Depressed  as  I  was  in  spirit  myself,  I  was  struck  with 
the  melancholy  tone  in  which  that  night  he  accosted  me. 

10  He  felt  a  presentiment,  he  said,  that  he  would  n< 

vive   the  battle  of  the  ensuing  day.     HP  wi>hed  to  bid 
me   farewell,   and   to   intrust   to   my  care   his  por 
which,   with    his   farewell    i  was   all   he  had  to 

bequeath  to  his  wife  and  child.     Absence  had  renewed, 

16  or  rather  doubled,  all  his  fondness  for  the  former,  and 
portrayed  her  in  all  the  wit.  :  had  won 

his  boyish  affection.     He  talked   of  her  while  tin- 
ran  down  his  cheeks,  and  conjured  me,  if  e\er  I  reached 
England,  to   find    her   out,   and    make   known   her  case 

20  to  his  father.  In  vain,  while  I  pledged  my  word  to  the 
fulfilment  of  his  wishes,  I  endeavored  to  cheer  him  with 
better  hopes.  He  listened  in  mournful  silence  to  all  I 
could  suggest ;  flung  his  arms  round  my  neck  ;  wrung 
my  hand,  and  we  I  saw  him  I 

25  It  was  during  the  hottest  part  of  the  next  and  terrible 
day,  when  with  a  noise  that  drowned  even  tin-  T-* 
the  artillery,  Sir  William  I'onsonby's  brigade  • 
dashed  past  our  hollow  square,  bearing'  •  in  in 

t  tremendous  charge,  the  flower  of  Napoleon's  chr. 

30  Far  ahead  even  of  his  national  regiment,  I  saw  the  manly 
figure  of  my  friend.     It  was  but  for  a   nmn: 
next  instant  he  was  fighting  in  the  centre  of  the  enemy's 
squadrons  ;  and  the  clouds  of  smoke,  that  closed  in  masses 


Ex.  41.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  151 

round  friend  and  foe,   hid  him  from  my  view.     When 

35  the  battle  was  over,  and  all  was  hushed  but  the  groans  of 
the  wounded,  and  the  triumphant  shouts  and  rolling  drums 
of  the  victorious  Prussians,  who  continued  the  pursuit 
during  the  entire  of  the  night,  I  quitted  the  shattered  re- 
mains of  the  gallant  regiment  in  whose  ranks  I  had  that 

40  day  the  honor  of  standing.  The  moon  was  wading 
through  scattered  masses  of  dark  and  heavy  clouds,  when 
I  commenced  my  search  for  my  friend.  The  light  was 
doubtful  and  uncertain ;  yet  it  was  easy  to  keep  along 
the  track  that  marked  the  last  career  of  Ponsonby. 

45  Shuddering,  lest  in  every  face  I  should  recognize  my 
friend,  I  passed  by,  and  sometimes  trod  upon  the  cold 
and  motionless  heaps,  which  now  looked  so  unlike  the 
"  fiery  masses  of  living  valor"  that  a  few  hours  before, 
had  commingled,  with  a  concussion  more  dreadful  than 

50  the  earthquake's  shock.  Although  I  at  first  felt  a  certain 
conviction  of  his  fate,  I  afterwards  began  to  hope  that 
the  object  of  my  search  had,  Contrary  to  his  prediction, 
survived  the  terrible  encounter.  I  was  about  to  retire, 
when  a  heap  of  slain,  in  a  ploughed  field,  on  which  the 

55  moon  was  now  shining  clearly,  attracted  my  notice. 
Literally  piled  on  each  other,  were  the  bodies  of  five 
cuirassiers;  and  lying  beneath  his  horse  was  the  dead 
body  of  my  friend.  You  may  form  some  idea  of  my  as- 
tonishment, on  finding,  by  a  nearer  inspection,  that  his 

60  head  was  supported  and  his  neck  intwined  by  the  arms 
of  a  female,  from  whom  also  the  spirit  had  taken  its  de- 
parture ;  but  you  can  form  no  conception  of  the  horror 
I  felt  at  beholding,  in  this  scene  of  carnage  and  desola- 
tion, in  the  very  arms  of  death,  and  on  the  bosom  of  a 

65  corpse,  a  living  infant,  sleeping  calmly,  with  the  moon- 
beam resting  on  its  lovely  features,  and  a  smile  playing 
on  its  lips,  as  if  angels  were  guarding  its  slumbers,  and 
inspiring  its  dreams  !  And  who  knows  but  perhaps  they 
were  ?  The  conviction  now  flashed  on  my  mind,  that 

70  these  were  the  wife  and  child  of  my  unfortunate  friend ; 
and  the  letters  we  afterwards  found  on  the  person  of  the 
former,  proved  that  I  was  right  in  my  conjecture.  Driv- 
en aside  by  the  gale  of  pleasure  or  ambition,  or  by  the 
storms  of  life,  the  affections  of  man  may  veer ;  but  un- 

75  changeable  and  unchanging  is  a  true  heart  in  woman, 
"  She  loves,  and  loves  forever."  This  faithful  wife  had 


132  I-ART  u.  [Ex.  41 

followed  h'T  husband  through  a  land  of  strangers,  and 
over  the  pathless  sea;  through  tin-  crowded  city  and 
the  hustling  camp,  till  sin-  found  him  stretcli.-d  <,n  the 

80  battle    field.      Perhaps  M   in    time  to   i 

parting  sigh,  and  her  spirit,  (juitting  its  uorn-out  tene- 
ment of  clay,  winded  Him  \v  ho  gave 
them  being.  With  the  assistance'  of  smne  of  my  com- 
rades, I  consigned  this  hapless  pair  to  the  earth,  wrapped 

85  in  the  same  military  cloak ;  and  enveloping  the  infant, 
this  dear  child  of  my  adoption,  in  my  plaid,  I  returned  t.. 
the  spot  where  our  regiment  lay. 


42. 

The  Righteous  never  forsaken. — NEW  YORK  SPECTATOR. 

It  was  Saturday  night,  and  the   widow  of  the  Pine 
Cottage  sat  by  her  blazing  fagots,  with   her  five  ta 
children  at  her  side,  mg,    by  listening  to  the 

artlessness  of  their  prattle,  to  dissipate  the  heavy  gloom 
£  that  pressed  upon  her  mind.     For  a  year,  her  own 

hands  had  provided  for  her  helpless  family,  for  she  had 
no  supporter:  she  thought  of  no  friend  in  all  the  wide, 
unfriendly  world  around.  Hut  that  mysterious  Provi- 
dence, the  wisdom  of  whose  ways  are  above  human  com- 

10  prehension,   had    visited    her  with   wasting   sickness,  and 
her  little  means  had  become  1.    It  was  now,  too, 

mid-winter,  and  the  snow  lay  heavy  and  deep  through 
all  the  surroundii  .  while  storms  Mill  seemed 

gathering  in  the   heavens,  and   the  driving   wind  roared 

15  amidst    the    hounding    pines   and   rocked    her   puny  man- 
sion. 

The   last   lu-rri:  1    up<-n  t  •  •    her  ; 

it  was  the  only  at  •  1  she  possessed,  and  no  won- 

der her  forlorn.  d<  •••   brought  up  in  her  lone  bo- 

20  som  all  the  hen  shr  1. Hiked  upon 

her   children  .  vr,  forlorn   as  she  \\ 

suffered  tin-  vspairtori  i.ough 

she    knew  tii..  is  lo    the  widow  and  to 

the  word.       Providence  had 

25  many  years  .    her  her  eldest  son,  who 

went  from  hi-  hi>   fortune  on  the  high 

sea-  hich  sh«   heard  no  note  or  tidings  of  him  ; 


Ex.  42.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  153 

and  in  later  time,  had,  by  the  hand  of  death,  deprived 
her  of  the  companion  and  staff  of  her  earthly  pilgrimage, 

30  in  the  person  of  her  husband.     Yet  to  this  hour  she  had 

been  upborne :  she  had  not  only  been  able  to  provide  for 

her  little  flock,  but  had  never  lost  an  opportunity  of 

ministering  to  the  wants  of  the  miserable  and  destitute. 

The  indolent  may  well  bear  with  poverty,  while  the 

35  ability  to  gain  sustenance  remains.  The  individual  who 
has  but  his  own  wants  to  supply,  may  suffer  with  forti- 
tude the  winter,  of  want ;  his  affections  are  not  wounded, 
his  heart  not  wrung.  The  most  desolate  in  populous 
cities  may  hope,  for  charity  has  not  quite  closed  her  hand 

40  and  heart,  and  shut  her  eyes  on  misery.  But  the  indus- 
trious mother  of  helpless  and  depending  children — far 
from  the  reach  of  human  charity,  has  none  of  these  to 
console  her.  And  such  an  one  was  the  widow  of  the 
Pine  Cottage ;  but  as  she  bent  over  the  fire,  and  took 

45  up  the  last  scanty  remnant  of  food,  to  spread  before  her 
children,  her  spirits  seemed  to  brighten  up,  as  by  some 
sudden  and  mysterious  impulse,  and  Cowper's  beautiful 
lines  came  uncalled  across  her  mind — 

Judge  not  the  Lord  by  feeble  sense, 

But  trust  him  for  his  grace ; 
Behind  a  frowning  Providence 

He  hides  a  smiling  face. 

The  smoked  herring  was  scarcely  laid  upon  the  table, 
when  a  gentle  rap  at  the  door,  and  loud  barking  of  a 

55  dog,  attracted  the  attention  of  the  family.  The  children 
flew  to  open  it,  and  a  weary  traveler,  in  tattered  gar- 
ments, and  apparently  indifferent  health,  entered,  and 
begged  a  lodging,  and  a  mouthfnl  of  food  ;  said  he,  "  it 
is  now  twenty-four  hours  since  I  tasted  bread."  The 

60  widow's  heart  bled  anew  as  under  a  fresh  complication 
of  distresses ;  for  her  sympathies  lingered  not  round  her 
fireside.  She  hesitated  not  even  now  ;  rest  and  share  of 
all  she  had  she  proffered  to  the  stranger.  "  We  shall  not 
be  forsaken ;"  said  she,  "  or  suffer  deeper  for  an  act  of 

65  charity." 

The  traveler  drew  near  the  board — but  when  he  saw 
the  scanty  fare,  he  raised  his  eyes  towards  Heaven  with 
astonishment — "  and  is  this  all  your  store  ?"  said  he — 
"  and  a  share  of  this  do  you  offer  to  one  you  know  not  ? 

70  then  never  saw  I  charity  before !     But,  madam,"  said  he, 


154  XlKtClSBd. PART    II.  [Ex.  42,  43. 

continuing,  "do  you  n<>t  wroo^jumr  '-.'      -      )• 

a  part  of  your  last  mouthful 

the  poor  widow,  and  the  tear  drops  gu.>hed  into  her  eyes 

as  she  said  it,  "  1  have  a  boy,  a 

76  on  the  face  of  the  wide  world.  .  has  taken 

him  away,  and  I  only  act  i  I   would  that 

others  should   act   towards  him.      (iod,  who  sent   manna 
from  heaven,  can  pn>\  ••  did  fur  Israel — and 

how  should  I  this  night  oilVnd  him,  if  inv  son  >houl: 

80  wanderer,  destitute  a*  y-u,  and  he  should  have  provided 
for  him-Jl  home,  <\-n  p-..ir  as  this—  •  turn  you 

unrelie\ed  away." 

:••<!.  and  the  stranger  springing  from  his 
seat,   clasped    her  in   his  arms — "  (iod  indeed  has  pro- 

85  vided   your  son  a  home — and  ilth  to 

reward    the   goodness   of  h.  tress — my   mother! 

oh,  my  mother !" 

It  was  her  long  lost  urning  to  her  bosom  from 

the  Indies.     He  had  chosen  that  disguise  that  he  might 

90  the  more  completely  surpi .  mily  ;  and  never  was 

surprise  more  pen  ip  of 

joy.     That  humhle  ivsid<-ni-e  in  :  was  excha 

for  one  comfortable,  and  indeed  beautiful,  in  the  % 
and  the  widow  lised   1  >i,u  with  her  dutiful  son,  in  the 

95  enjoyment  of  worldly  plenty,  and  in  the  delightful  em- 
ployments of  virtue ;  and  at  this  day  the  passer  by  is 
pointed  to  the  willow  that  spreads  its  branches  above  her 
gravr. 


To  Printers. — FIRHRR  AMES. 

n<-w>p:i|  • 
market,  as   much  a.s   any  oth«T.      Th- 

den 

!    the  tV|  • 

fi  multiply  upon  us  surprint 

to   lie    feared.    Will   not    ! 

is  not  loathsome  or  short  A 

to  be   very  lean  and    < 

prodigies  or  i 
10  bi: 


Ex.  43.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  155 

Some  of  these  tales  excite  horror,  and  others  disgust ; 
yet  the  fashion  reigns,  like  a  tyrant,  to  relish  wonders, 
and  almost  to  relish  nothing  else.  Is  this  a  reasonable 
taste  ;  or  is  it  monstrous  and  worthy  of  ridicule  ?  Is  the 

15  history  of  Newgate  the  only  one  worth  reading?  Are 
oddities  only  to  be  hunted  ?  Pray  tell  us,  men  of  ink, 
if  our  free  presses  are  to  diffuse  information,  and  we, 
the  poor  ignorant  people,  can  get  it  no  other  way  than 
by  newspapers,  what  knowledge  we  are  to  glean  from  the 

20  blundering  lies,  or  the  tiresome  truths  about  thunder 
storms,  that,  strange  to  tell !  kill  oxen  or  burn  barns  ! 
The  crowing  of  a  hen  is  supposed  to  forebode  cuck- 
oldom ;  and  the  ticking  of  a  little  bug  in  the  wall 
threatens  yellow  fever.  It  seems  really  as  if  our  news- 

25  papers  were  busy  to  spread  superstition. — Omens,  and 
dreams,  and  prodigies,  are  recorded,  as  if  they  were 
worth  minding.  One  would  think  our  gazettes  were 
intended  for  Roman  readers,  who  were  silly  enough  to 
make  account  of  such  things.  We  ridicule  the  papists 

30  for  their  credulity  ;  yet,  if  all  the  trumpery  of  our  papers 
is  believed,  we  have  little  right  to  laugh  at  any  set  of 
people  on  earth  ;  and  if  it  is  not  believed,  why  is  it 
printed  ? 

Surely,  extraordinary  events  have  not  the  best  title  to 

35  our  studious  attention.  To  study  nature  or  man,  we 
ought  to  know  things  that  are  in  the  ordinary  course,  not 
the  unaccountable  things  that  happen  out  of  it. 

This  country  is  said  to  measure  seven  hundred  mill- 
ions of  acres,  and  it  is  inhabited  by  almost  six  millions 

40  of  people.  Who  can  doubt,  then,  that  a  great  many 
crimes  will  be  committed,  and  a  great  many  strange 
things  will  happen  every  seven  years  ?  There  will  be 
thunder  showers,  that  will  split  tough  white-oak  trees  ; 
and  hail  storms,  that  will  cost  some  farmers  the  full 

45  amount  of  twenty  shillings  to  mend  their  glass  windows ; 
there  will  be  taverns,  and  boxing  matches,  and  elections, 
and  gouging,  and  drinking,  and  love,  and  murder,  and 
running  in  debt,  and  running  away,  and  suicide.  Now, 
if  a  man  supposes  eight,  or  ten,  or  twenty  dozen  of  these 

50  amusing  events  will  happen  in  a  single  year,  is  he  not 
just  as  wise  as  another  man,  who  reads  fifty  columns  of 
amazing  particulars,  and,  of  course,  knows  that  they  have 
happened  ? 


156  I-AKT  if.  [Ex.  43,  44. 


This  state  has  almost  one  hundred  thousand  dwelling 

55  houses  ;  it  would  be  strange,  if  all  of  them  should  escape 
fire  for  twelve  months.  Vet  is  it  very  |irotilable  for  a 
man  to  UT..HH-  ;i  deep  student  of  all  the  accidents,  by 
which  they  are  c<  i^ood  care 

of  his  chimney  corner,  and  put  a  fender  before  the  back- 

•0  log  belore  lie  goes  to  bed.  Ha\ing  done  this,  he  may  let 
hi-.  aunt  or  grandmother  read  by  day,  or  meditate  by 
night,  the  terrible  newspaper  articles  of  fires. 

Some  of  the  shocking  articles  in  the  papers  raise  sim- 
ple, and  very  simple,  wonder  ;  some,  terror  ;  and  some, 

65   horror  and   disgust.     Now  what  instruction  is   there   in 

these  endless  wonders?  —  Who  is  the  wiser  or  hafpitr 

for  reading  the  account  n?     On  the  contrary,  do 

they  not  shock  tender  minds,  and  addle  shallow   brains? 

nan  this  happens;  for  some  e<-<»-mii.-  minds  are 

70  turned  to  mischief  by  sucli  account-,  a.s  they  receive,  of 
troops  of  incendiaries  burning  our  cities:  the  spirit  of 
imitation  is  contagious  ;  and  boys  are  found  unaccount- 
abl\  do  as  men  do.  \\'hen  the  man  flew  from 

the  steeple   of  the  North   church  fifty  years  ago,  every 

76  unlucky  boy  thought  of  nothing  but  flying  from  a  sign- 
post. 

EXERCISE   44. 

Washington.  —  PIERPOXT. 

(The  following  original  hymn  was  sung  at  the  celebration  on  the  22ml 
of  February,  in  th-  <>I,1  South  Charch.  Boston.] 

To  thee,  beneath  whose  eye, 
;i  circling  century 

Obedient  : 

Our  nation,  in  it-  prime, 
Look'd  with  a  faith  sublime, 
And  n  ii-ied  in  "  the  time 

That  tried  men's  souls  —  " 


When,  from  this  t^itr  of  heaven,* 
People  and  ]  ri<  -;  were  drr. 
(1  sword, 


•  Thr  OM  South  (  'linrrh  waa  taken  powMBon  of  by  the  Hritisli.  whiU 
1.1  Boston,  and  converted  into  barracks  for  the  cavalry,  the  pew§ 
being  cut  up  for  fuel,  or  used  in  constructing  lUlIt  for  the  hone*. 


Ex.  44,  45.]  EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  157 

And,  where  thy  saints  had  pray'd, 
The  harness'd  war-horse  neigh'd, 
And  horsemen's  trumpet  bray'd 
In  harsh  accord. 

Nor  was  our  father's  trust, 
Thou  Mighty  One  and  Just. 

Then  put  to  shame  : 
"  Up  to  the  hills"  for  light, 
Look'd  they  in  peril's  night, 
And,  from  yon  guardian  height,* 

Deliverance  came. 

There,  like  an  angel  form, 
Sent  down  to  still  the  storm, 

Stood  WASHINGTON ! 
Clouds  broke  and  roll'd  away  ; 
Foes  fled  in  pale  dismay ; 
Wreath'd  were  his  brows  with  bay. 

When  war  was  done. 

God  of  our  sires  and  sons, 
Let  other  Washingtons 

Our  country  bless, 
And,  like  the  brave  and  wise 
Of  by-gone  centuries, 
Show  that  true  greatness  lies 

In  righteousness. 


EXERCISE  45. 
Miserable  case  of  a  Weaver. — BELL'S  MESSENGER. 

A  very  worthy  poor  weaver  applied  to  his  master 
about  three  weeks  since,  begging  earnestly  for  work, 
stating  that  he  was  in  great  want,  and  Avould  thankfully 
do  any  thing  for  the  means  .of  supporting  his  existence. 
5  His  master  assured  him  he  did  not  want  any  more  goods, 
his  stock  being  very  heavy,  without  any  sale,  and  that 
he  could  not  give  out  more  work  to  any  one.  The  man 
pressed  very  much,  and  at  length  his  master  said, 

*  From  his  position  on  "  Dorchester  Heights,"  that  overlook  the  town, 
General  Washington  succeeded  in  compelling  the  British  forces  to  evacu- 
ate Boston. 


158  EXERCISES.  —  IMKT    II.  [E\ 

"  W.-li,    .Jonathan,    if   it    is  absolutely  necessary  for  you 

10  to   wea  to   prevent   y>u   from  starving,  I  will 

let  you  have  it.  hut  cannot  -jive  you  more  than  1*.  for 
it,  ('Ji.  is  the  regular  price,)  for  I  really  do  not  want 
any  more  goods  made  up  for  a  long  time  to  come." 
"  Let  m»-  have  it,  master.  I  he:,',"  said  the  poor  man, 

15  "  whatever  you  pay  me  for  it,  pray  let  me  have  it." 
The  piece  was  given  to  him  to  weave,  and  at  the 
end  of  two  days  he  brought  it  home,  and  on  carrying  it 
to  his  master  begged  of  him  to  give  him  1*.  6<f.  for 
it,  saying  how  much  he  was  distressed  for  money. 
His  master  paid  him  the  Is.  6d.,  and  the  man  went 

20  away.  The  master  feeling  very  uncomfortable  about 
the  poor  man,  and  thinking  that  the  earnestness  of  his 
manner  must  ari-  want,  determined 

on  following  him  home.  He  went  to  the  cottage  of  the 
weaver,  and  found  the  wife  alone  in  the  lower  room, 

25  making   a, little  gruel   over  a  poor  Ore.      "  Well,    V 

said   the   master,    "where    is    your    husband?"      "Oh! 
sir,  he  is  just  come  in  from  your  house,  and   being 
faint  and  weary,  he  is  ju-4  gone  to  lie  down  in  his  bed." 
"I   will    go  up  and   see   him,    Mary;"  and  immed: 

30  he  went  to  the  upper  room,  where  he  saw  the  poor  man 

lying  on  his  bed,  just  in  the  agonies  of  death,  with  his 

mouth   open,  and   oil  hands  clasped  ;  and  after  a  short 

vulsion,    he    expired.     The    master    was    very    mucli 

distressed,  and   came  down   stairs,  hoping  to  be  able  to 

B    the   wife,  who  was  in   a   very  emanated   condition  ; 

she  had  just  poured  the   gruel   into  a  basin,  intending 

to  carry  it  up  to  her  In  I  he  master  said.  ••  Come, 

Mar  said  she, 

"  not  a  drop  will    1    ta>te   till   JnnntJmn    has   had    some. 

.•her   of   us    hive    Irid    anv  tiling    within   our   lips   but 

-  for  the  tv.'n  davs  we  v.  ing  your  piece  :   and 

I  thought  it 

.   anv  thi:  -  so   long  since  we  ' 

food  ;   le.  :    firxt."     The 

• 

up  to    hor   busbar. 

finding  that  he  could  not  prevail  on  her  to  touch  the  gruel, 

was  obliged  to  tell  her  that  her  hushand  WE*  dead. 

nan  set  d"  ~:n  of  gruel,  sunk  on  the 

f»0  floor,  and  in.  red. 


159  EXERCISES. PART    II.  [Ex.  46. 

EXERCISE  46. 
The  Tomb  of  Washington. — ANONYMOUS. 

PART  I. 

We  thought  to  gallop  to  Mount  Vernon,  but  the 
chance  of  missing  the  way,  and  the  tiresomeness  of  a 
gig,  induced  us  to  take  a  hackney  coach.  Accordingly 
•we  took  possession,  and  ordered  it  on  with  all  convenient 
6  dispatch.  But  haste  was  out  of  the  question  ; — for  never 
was  worse  road  than  that  to  Mount  Vernon.  Still,  in  the 
season  of  foliage,  it  may  be  a  romantic  route.  As  it 
was,  we  saw  nothing  to  attract  the  eye,  save  a  few  seats, 
scattered  among  the  hills,  and  occupying  some  pictu- 

10  resk  eminences.  On  we  went — and  yet  onward — 
through  all  variety  of  riding  ;  hill  and  vale,  meadow  and 
woodland,  until  a  sheet  of  water  began  to  glimmer  through 
the  dim  trees,  and  announce  our  approach  again  to  the 
Potomac.  In  a  few  moments,  a  turn  in  the  wild  and  un- 

15  even  road  brought  us  in  view  of  the  old  mansion-house 
of  Washington.  We  drove  to  the  entrance  of  the  old 
gateway,  and  alighted  in  the  midst  of  what  appeared  to 
be  a  little  village,  so  numerous  and  scattered  were  the 
buildings.  About  those  which  we  first  came  upon,  there 

20  was  an  air  of  dilapidation  and  neglect  that  was  rather 
unpromising.  They  were  of  brick,  and  devoted  to  the 
lower  menial  purposes  of  the  place.  As  we  advanced, 
the  houses  that  covered  the  grounds  had  a  neater  ap- 
pearance ;  and  when  we  came  in  view  of  the  edifice,  of 

25  which  all  these  were  the  outworks  or  appendages,  we 
were  at  once  struck  with  the  simple  beauty  of  the  struc- 
ture, and  the  quiet  and  secluded  loveliness  of  its  situa- 
tion. The  roof  is  crowned  with  a  little  cupola  or 
steeple,  a  common  thing  upon  the  old  seats  of  rich  pro- 

30  prietors  of  Virginia,  and  the  building  itself  is  two  stories 
in  hight.  The  portion  nearest  the  river,  and  which  is 
fronted  with  a  light  piazza,  is  an  addition  which  was 
made  to  the  mansion  by  the  general.  By  this  arrange- 
ment the  beauty  of  the  whole  must  have  been  much  in- 

35  creased.  The  style  of  the  work,  and  the  painting,  have 
the  effect  of  a  freestone  front ;  and  though  there  is  noth- 
ing imposing  or  grand  in  the  appearance  of  the  house, 
still  there  is  an  air  of  substance  and  comfort  about  it,  that 
after  all  is  far  more  satisfying  than  magnificence.  Send- 

40  ing  in  our  cards,  bv  an  old    servant,  we  were  soon  in- 


160  EXRKCUEd FART    II.  [Ex.  46. 

vited  to  enter.  Not  having  letters  to  Mr.  W.  the  present 
proprietor,  who  is  n«>w  \. TV  ill,  we  did  not  expect  to  aee 
any  of  the  family.  A  servant  accordingly,  at  our  re- 
quest, merely  accompanied  us  through  the  rooms  made 

45  interesting   by  the    hallowed  associations   that   can. 

:i    us  as    we    traveled    them.      In    tin-    hall    orentiv, 
hangs,   in  a  glass  case,   the  key  of  the    I  ..  in.  h 

every  body  has  heard  of.  It  was  presented  to  Wa-h- 
iiiLTton  by  La:  l'nd«-r  it  is  a  picture  «.l"  ti,  , 

50  nowned  fortress.  This  key  i>  by  no  means  formidable 
for  its  size,  being  about  as  large  as  a  bank  key,  and  of 
a  shape  by  no  means  mysterious  enough  fur  a  disserta- 
tion. The  only  curious  portion  of  it,  is  that  grasped  by 
the  hand  in  turning.  It  is  solid  and  of  an  oval  shape, 

55  and  appeared  to  me,  for  I  always  love  to  be  curious  in 
these  matters.  to  have  been  broken,  on  a  time,  and  then 
soldered  or  1  fin.  It  probably  had  some  hard 

wrenches  in  its  day.  On  the  whole  it  appeared  to  be  a 
very  amiable  key,  and  by  no  means  equal  to  all  the  turns 

60  it  must  have  seen  in  the  Revolution. 

We  ^  hown  into  a  small  room,  which  was  set 

apart  as  the  study  of  Washington.  Here  lie  was  wont  to 
transact  all  his  business  of  his  retirement.  It 

was  hung  with   pictures  and    en^ravini^  of  revolutionary 

05  events ;  and  among  the  miniatures  was  one  of  himself, 
said  to  be  the  best  likeness  ever  taken.  Another  room 
was  shown  us,  which  had  nothing  remarkable  about  it, 
and  we  then  passed  into  a  larger  one,  finished  with  great 
taste,  and  containing  a  portrait  of  .lud^e  \\ 

70  A  beautiful  organ  stood  in  the  corner,  and  the  fireplace 
was  adorned  by  a  mantel  of  m..st  splendid  workmanship. 
in  bass-relief.  It  is  of  Italian  marble,  and  was  presented 
to  Washington  \>\  .  Th»  p.irt  <>f  <>ur  \, -it  was 

soon  over.     There  was   little   to  see   in    the    house,    and 

75  the  portions  referred  to  weir-  all  to  which  we  were  admit- 
ted. I  could  not  help  admiring,  however,  the  neatness 
and  air  of  antiquity  i  which  distinguished  the 

several  rooms  through  whi<-h  we  passed.  Ti..  re  was 
something,  ;iKo,  fanciful  in  their  at  raii'jemi  lit,  that  \\  as 

80  quite  pleasing  to  my  •  uore  so  than  the   mathe- 

ical  exactness  of  modern  and  mor< 

Passing  from  the  house.  .-id  m  ^lectcd  path- 

way, and  then  over  a  little  broken,  but  alread 
ground,  we  came  to  an  open  space,  nnd  found  ourselves 


Ex.  46.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  161 

85  standing  before  the  humble  tomb  of*Greorge  Washington. 
It  was  a  happy  moment  to  visit  the  spot.  There  was 
something  in  the  time,  fortunate  for  the  feelings.  The 
very  elements  seemed  in  accordance  with  the  season. 
The  day  was  beautiful — the  sunlight  was  streaming  full 

90  upon  the  trees  round  about,  and  glowing  witli  a  mellow 
beam  upon  the  grave ; — the  place  was  quiet  and  imbo- 
somed,  and  the  only  sound  that  we  heard,  save  that  of 
our  own  hearts,  was  the  voice  of  the  wind  through  the 
pines,  or  of  the  waters  as  they  broke  upon  the  shore  be- 

95  low  us.  Who  can  analyze  his  feelings  as  he  stands  before 
that  sepulchre !  Who  can  tell  the  story  of  his  associa- 
tions, or  do  any  justice  by  his  tongue  or  his  pen  to  the 
emotions  which  the  memories  of  the  past  awaken  there ! 
The  history  of  a  whole  country  is  overpowering  him  at 

100  once.  Its  struggle — its  darkness — its  despair — its  vic- 
tory rush  upon  him.  Its  gratitude,  its  glory,  and  its  loss, 
pass  before  him — and  in  a  few  moments  he  lives  through 
an  age  of  interest  and  wonder.  Strange  power  of  human 
mind !  What  an  intimation  does  this  rapid  communion 

105  with  the  past,  and  with  the  spirits  of  the  past,  give,  at 
once,  of  their  immortality  and  our  own  !  But  it  is  vain  to 
follow  out  these  feelings  here.  They  would  fill  volumes. 

PART  II. 

There  is  no  inscription  upon  the  tomb.  The  simple 
words  "WASHINGTON  FAMILY,"  chiseled  in  granite,  sur- 
mount the  plain  brick  work.  The  masonry  was  originally 
wretched,  and  the  plaster  is  now  falling  from  it.  The 
5  door  is  well  secured,  and  of  iron.  There  is  a  total  ab- 
sence of  every  thing  like  parade  or  circumstance  about  the 
resting-place  of  the  Hero.  He  sleeps  there  in  the  midst 
of  the  very  simplicities  of  mrture.  Laurel  trees  wave 
over  his  dust,  on  every  side,  and  the  pilgrim  who  goes  to 

10  stand  by  his  grave,  finds  no  careful  inclosure  to  forbid  his 
too  near  approach.  In  short,  Washington  rests  in  an 
obscurity — just  that  obscurity  which  he  would  have 
chosen,  but  which  seems  hardly  compatible  with  the  vast 
gratitude  and  deep  reverence  of  a  great  country. 

15  As  we  were  standing  upon  this  spot,  a  couple  of  span- 
iels came  bounding  along,  and  following  close,  was  an 
old  servant  of  the  family,  and  formerly  a  slave  of  Wash- 
ington. On  examining  him,  we  found  he  was  born  on 
the  place,  and  recollected  his  master,  and  all  he  said; 


162  EXEECISE*. PART    II.  [Ex.  46,  47 

20  with  great  dibtiactn-  M  Jit-  was  a  very  aged  negro,  and 
quite  gi 

I  found  then-  was  sometlii  ;athered  from 

ancient  of  the  family — and  acconlin: 
ing  upon  the  broken  LT.II«-,  which  swun^  In-fore  the  door 
of  the  old  tomb,  put  him  in  the  train, 
"  In  front  of  the  new  grave-place,  yonder,"  said  he,  "  lie 
buried  a  hundred  people  of  color."     These,  it  seenx -d, 
were  slaves  of  the  plantation,  who  from  time  to  time  had 
died  here.     He  spok«-  of  the  ^reut   kindness  of  Washing- 

30  ton,  and  his  emancipating  a  hundred  of  his  people. 
••  His  wife  did  the  same,"  added  he.  There  were  now, 
he  said,  but  about  fifteen  attached  to  the  establishment. 
Passing  from  one  thing  to  another  without  much  connec- 
tion, he  went  on  to-.-  .M_'  t<-  Washington — "I 

35  never  see  that  man  lau^h  to  t-ho..  !i — he  done  all 

hi$  laughing  inside."     This  I  thought  worth  a  page  of 
description.     We  then  recurred    to  Lafr  -it  in 

1825.     "  We  were  obliged  to  tote  him  all  about,"  sai.l  he 
— by  which  I  understood  that  the  general  was  so  over- 

40  come,  that  he  was  literally  supported  by  the  arms  of  at- 
U-ndants.  I  inquired  how  h»-  appeared  at  the  tomb. 
"He  cried  like  a  little  infant."  "Did  he  go  in?"  I 
asked.  "  0  yes — he  went  in,  sir — alone — and  he  made  a 
in'njhty  long  talk  tficre — but  I  don't  know  what  it  was 

45  about."  All  these  little  things  were  jewels.  I  loved  to 
hear  such  simple  narrations,  from  such  a  source,  and  it 
was  with  reluctance  I  turned  awav,  after  gathering  a 
relic  or  two,  and  followed  our  old  guide  up  to  the  house 
again.  But  we  had  seen  all  that  we  could  see,  and  after 

60  glancing  at  the  garden  and  greenhouse,  which  appeared 
in  all  the  coming  beauty  "f  spring,  and  turning  one  more 
ni.-lanrholy  gaze  upon  the  Cluster  of  buildings,  which  had 
once  been  improved  \,\  tin-  icn-nt  One  who  now  slept  in 
their  shadow,  we  entered  our  carriage,  and  rode  slowly 
.y  from  Mount  Vernon. 


r.xr.unsK  -n. 

Dtttruction  of  t  -  of  Jerusalem,  by  fire,  under 

Titus. — Mm 

lli  i.f  August,  the  day  already  darkened 
in  the  Jewish  calendar  by  the  destruction  of  the  former 


Ex.  47.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.          .  163 

temple,  by  the  King  of  Babylon  :  it  was  almost  passed. 
Titus  withdrew  again  into  Antonia;  intending  the  next 
5  morning  to  make  a  general  assault.  The  quiet  summer 
evening  came  on  ;  the  setting  sun  shone  for  the  last  time 
on  the  snow-white  walls,  and  glistening  pinnacles  of  the 
temple  roof.  Titus  had  retired  to  rest ;  when  suddenly 
a  wild  and  terrible  cry  was  heard,  and  a  man  came 

10  rushing  in,  announcing  that  the  temple  was  on  fire. 
Some  of  the  besieged,  notwithstanding  the  repulse  in  the 
morning,  had  sallied  out  to  attack  the  men  who  were 
busily  employed  in  extinguishing  the  fires  about  the 
cloisters.  The  Romans  not  merely  drove  them  back, 

15  but  entering  the  sacred  space  with  them,  forced  their 
way  to  the  temple.  A  soldier,  without  orders,  mounted 
on  the  shoulders  of  one  of  his  comrades,  threw  a  blazing 
brand  into  a  gilded  small  door,  on  the  north  side  of  the 
chambers,  in  the  outer  building  or  porch.  The  flames 

20  sprung  up  at  once.  The  Jews  uttered  one  simultaneous 
shriek,  and  grasped  their  swords  with  a  furious  determi- 
nation of  revenging  and  perishing  in  the  ruins  of  the 
temple.  Titus  rushed  down  with  the  utmost  speed  ;  he 
shouted,  he  made  signs  to  his  soldiers  to  quench  the 

25  fires ;  his  voice  was  drowned,  and  his  signs  unnoticed,  in 
the  blind  confusion.  The  legionaries  either  could  not, 
or  would  not  hear ;  they  rushed  on,  trampling  each  other 
down  in  their  furious  haste,  or  stumbling  over  the  crumb- 
ling ruins,  perished  with  the  enemy.  Each  exhorted  the 

30  other,  and  each  hurled  his  blazing  brand  into  the  inner 
part  of  the  edifice  ;  and  then  hurried  to  the  work  of  car- 
nage. The  unarmed  and  defenceless  people  were  slain  in, 
thousands  ;  they  lay  heaped,  like  sacrifices,  round  the 
altar ;  the  steps  of  the  temple  ran  with  streams  of  blood, 

35  which  washed  down  the  bodies  that  lay  about. 

Titus  found  it  impossible  to  check  the  rage  of  the  sol- 
diery ;  he  entered  with  his  officers,  and  surveyed  the  in- 
terior of  the  sacred  edifice.  The  splendor  filled  them 
with  wonder;  and  as  the  flames  had  not  yet  penetrated 

40  to  the  holy  place,  he  made  a  last  effort  to  save  it,  and 
springing  forth,  again  exhorted  the  soldiers  to  stay  the 
progress  of  the  conflagration.  The  centurion  Liberalis 
endeavored  to  enforce  obedience  with  his  staff  of  office ; 
but  even  respect  for  the  Emperor  gave  way  to  the  furi- 

45  ous  animosity  against  the  Jews,  to  the  fierce  excitement 


164  KXEKCI8E9 PAET    II.  [Ex.  47. 

of  battle,  and  to  tin-  insatiable  hope  <,f  plunder.  Tin- 
soldiers  saw  every  tiling  around  them  radiant  with  gold, 
which  .shone  da/./.lingly  in  tin-  wild  light  of  tin-  llanio  : 
they  supposed  that  incalculable  treas-.  laid  up  in 

60   the  sanctuary.      A    soldier,  unp«-p-i-i\.-d.  thrust   a  lighted 
torcli   between  the  hinges  of  tin-  door;   (he  whole  build- 
ing was  in  Humes  in  an  instant.     The  blinding  - 
fire  forced    the   oflicers  to   retreat  ;   ami    the  liable  edifice 
was  left  to  its  fate. 

PART  II. 

It  was  an  appalling  spectacle  to  the  Roman — what 
was  it  to  the  Jew?     The  whole  summit  of  the  hill,  which 
commanded   the  city,  blazed   like  a  volcano.     One    after 
another  the  buildings  fell   in,  with  a  tn-niem! 
5  and  were  swallowed  up  in  the  fiery  aby>-.     The  r 

cedar  were  like  sheets  of  flame ;  the  gilded  pinnacles 
shone  like  spikes  of  red  light;  the  gate  towers  sent  up 
tall  columns  of  flame  and  smoke.  Tl.  Ting 

hills  were  lighted  up;  and  dark  group*  of  people  were 

10  seen    watching   in    horrible,    anxiety   tin-    progress  of  the 
destruction  :  the  walls  and  heights  of  the  upper  city  were 
crowded  with  face-,,  some  pale  with  the  agony  of  de- 
others  scowling  unavailing  vengeance.     The  shouts  of  the 
Roman  soldiery,  as  they  ran  to  and  fro,  and  the  bowlings 

15  of  the  insurgent:,  who  were  perishing  in  the  l lames, 
mingled  with  the  roaring  of  the  conflagration  and  the 
thundering  sound  of  falling  timbers.  The  echoes  of  the 
mountains  replied,  or  brought  back  the  shrieks  of  the 
people  on  the  bights:  all  along  the  walls,  resound,  d 

20  screams    and  -men,   who   were   •  with 

famine,  rallied  their  remaining  strength  to  utter  a  cry  of 
anguish  and  desolation. 

liter   within    v,  .idful  than 

from   without.      Men   and    women,  old  and 

25  youii  nts    and  who    fought    and 

those  who  eiiirv.-ued  jiieiv\.  wire  hewn  down  in  indis- 
criminate carnage.  'H 

that    of  the  id    to    cla: 

30  tion.     John,  al  iris  troop- 

way  through,  first  into  the  outer  court  of  tl. 
afterwards   into   th<     .  v.     Some  of  the  priesta 


Ex.  47,  48.]  EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  165 

upon  the  roof  wrenched  off  the  gilded  spikes,  with  their 
sockets  of  lead,  and  used  them  as  missiles  against  the 

35  Romans  below.     Afterwards   they  fled  to  a  part  of  the 

wall,  about  fourteen  feet  wide  :  they  were  summoned  to 

surrender ;  but  two  of  them,  Mair,  son  of  Belgo,  and 

Joseph,  son  of  Dalia,  plunged  headlong  into  the  flames. 

No  part  escaped  the  fury  of  the  Romans.     The  treas- 

40  uries,  with  all  their  wealth  of  money,  jewels,  and  costly 
robes — the  plunder  which  the  zealots  had  laid  up — were 
totally  destroyed.  Nothing  remained  but  a  small  part  of 
the  outer  cloister,  in  which  6000  unarmed  and  defence- 
less people,  with  women  and  children,  had  taken  refuge. 
.»  These  poor  wretches,  like  multitudes  of  others,  had  been 
led  up  to  the  temple  by  a  false  prophet,  who  had  pro- 
claimed that  God  commanded  all  the  Jews  to  go  up  to 
the  temple,  where  he  Avould  display  his  Almighty  power 
to  save  his  people.  The  soldiers  set  fire  to  the  building, 

50  and  every  soul  perished. 


EXERCISE  48. 
The  Charnel  Ship. — CHARLESTON  COURIER. 

1  The  night — the  long  dark  night  at  last 

Pass'd  fearfully  away. 
'Mid  crashing  ice,  and  howling  blast, 

They  hail'd  the  dawn  of  day, — 
Which  broke  to  cheer  the  whaler's  crew, 
And  wide  around  its  gray  light  threw. 

2  The  storm  had  ceased — its  wrath  had  rent 

The  icy  wall  asunder — 
And  many  a  piercing  glance  they  sent 

Around  in  awe  and  wonder — 
And  sailor  hearts  their  rude  praise  gave, 
To  God,  that  morn,  from  o'er  the  wave. 

3  The  breeze  blew  freshly,  and  the  Sun 

Pour'd  his  full  radiance  far, 
On  heaps  of  icy  fragments  won — 

Sad  trophies — in  the  past  night's  war 
Of  winds  and  waters — and  in  piles, 
Now  drifted  by,  bright  shining  Isles. 

4  But  lo  ! — still  farther  off  appears 

A  form  more  dim  and  dark  ; 


106  RCISE3 I'AKT    11.  El.  48.] 

And  anxious  eyes,  and  hopes,  and  fears, 

Its  slow,  strange  progress  mark  ; 
As  it  moves  tow'rds  them  by  tlie  breeze 
Borne  onward  from  more  Northern  Seas. 

5  Near,  and  more  near — and  can  it  be, 

(More  vent'ruus  than  their  uwn.) 
A  Ship,  whose  seeming  glm>t  they  see, 

Among  those  Icebergs  thruwn  ; 
With  broken  masts,  dismantled  all, 
And  dark  sails,  like  a  funeral  pall  ? 

6  (0)  "  God  of  the  Mariner  !  protect 

Her  inmates  as  she  moves  along, 
Through  perils  which,  ere  now,  had  wreck'd — 

But  that  thine  arm  is  strong." 
(°)  Ha !  she  has  struck — she  grounds — she  stands 
Still  as  if  held  by  giant  hands. 

1  "  Quick,  man  the   boat  /" — away  they  sprang, 

The  stranger  ship  to  aid  ; 
And  loud  their  hailing  voices  rang, 

And  rapid  speed  they  made  : 
But  all  in  silence,  deep,  unbroke, 
The  vessel  stood — none  answering  spoke. 

g  'Twas  fearful — not  a  sound  arose — 

No  moving  thing  was  there, 
To  interrupt  the  dread  repose 

Which  fill'd  each  heart  with  fear ; 
On  deck  they  silent  stepp'd,  and  sought, 
'Till  one,  a  man,  their  sad  sight  caught. 

f  He  was  alone — the  damp,  chill  mould 

Of  years  hung  on  his  cl. 
A  pen  in  his  hand  had  meekly  told 

The  tale  n<>  iWtv  might  speak : 
"  Seventy  days,"  the  record  stood, 
••  Had  they  been  in  the  ice,  and  wanted  food." 

10  They  took  his  book,  and  turn'd  away, 

But  soon  discover'd  where 
The  wife,  in  her  death-sleep,  gently  lay, 
ir  him,  in  life  most  dear — 

rt's  pride. 
Long  years  before  had  calmly  died. 


Ex.  48,  49.]           EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  167 

11  Oh,  wedded  love  !  how  beautiful, 

How  pure  a  thing  thou  art : 
Whose  influence  even  in  death  can  rule, 

And  triumph  o'er  the  heart ; 
Can  cheer  life's  roughest  walk,  and  shed 
A  holy  light  around  the  dead. 

12  There  was  a  solemn,  sacred  feeling 

Kindled  in  every  breast ; 
And  softly  from  the  cabin  stealing, 

They  left" them  to  their  rest — 
The  fair,  the  young,  the  constant  pair, 
They  left  them  with  a  blessing  there : 

13  And  to  their  boat  returning,  each 

With  thoughtful  brows  and  haste, 
And  o'ercharged  hearts,  too  full  for  speech, 

Left  'midst  the  frozen  waste, 
That  Charnel  Ship,  which  years  before, 
Had  sail'd  from  distant  Albion's  shore. 

14  They  left  her  in  the  icebergs,  where 

Few  venture  to  intrude  ; 
A  monument  of  death  and  fear, 

'Mid  Ocean's  solitude ! 
And,  grateful  for  their  own  release, 
Thank'd  God,  and  sought  their  homes  in  peace. 


EXERCISE  49. 
Life. — A  Spanish  Poem. — EDINBURGH  REVIEW. 

1  Oh !  while  we  eye  the  rolling  tide, 
Down  which  our  flowing  minutes  glide 

Away  so  fast ; 

Let  us  the  present  hour  employ, 
And  deem  each  future  dream  a  joy 

Already  past. 

2  Let  no  vain  hope  deceive  the  mind — 
No  happier  let  us  hope  to  find, 

To-morrow  than  to-day ; 
Our  golden  dreams  of  yore  were  bright, 
Like  them  the  present  shall  delight — 

Like  them  decay. 


108  r AKT   ii.  [Ex.  40,  60. 

3  Our  lives  like  ha.-ling  streams  must  be, 
That  into  one  ingulfing  sea, 

An-  doom'd  to  fall — 
The  sea  of  death,  wlio>e  waves  roll  on, 
O'er  king  and  kingdom,  crown  and  throne, 

And  swallow  all. 

4  Alike  the  river's  lordly  I 
Alike  the  humble  riv'lets  glide 

To  that  sad  v.i 

Death  levels  poverty  and  pride, 
And  rich  and  poor  sleep  side  by  side 

Within  tl 

5  Our  birth  is  but  a  starting  place  ; 
Life  is  the  running  of  tin-  i. 

And  death  the.  goal  ; 

There  all  those  glittering  toys  are  brought, 
That  path  alone,  of  all  unsought, 

Is  found  of  nil. 

6  Say  then,  how  poor  and  little  worth 
Are  all  those  glittering  toys  of  earth, 

That  lure  us  here  ? 

Dreams  of  a  sleep  that  death  must  break, 
Alas  !  before  it  bids  us  wake, 

Ye  disappear ! 


EXERCISE  60. 
Death  and  the  Drunkard. — ANONYMOUS. 

His  form  was  fair,  his  check  was  health ; 

His  word  a  bond,  his  pur  ilth  ; 

With  wheat  his  field  was  cover'd  o'er, 

1'lcnty  sat  smiling  at  his  door. 

His  wile  the  fount  of  ceaseless  j"V  ; 

How  laugh'd  his  daughter,  play'd  his  boy  ', 

His  library,  though  i 

Till  half  its  coi 

At  morn  'twas  health,  wealth,  pure  delight, 

'Twas  health,  \\ealdi,  p.-a.  •  s  at  night; 

I  wish'd  not  to  disturb  liis  bliw — 

Tis  gone  !  but  all  the  fault  WM  hi*. 


50. J  EXERCISES. PART    II.  169 

2  The  social  glass  I  saw  him  seize, 
The  more  with  festive  wit  to  please, 
Daily  increase  his  love  of  cheer — 
Ah,  little  thought  he  /  was  near ! 
Gradual  indulgence  on  him  stole, 
Frequent  became  the  midnight  bowl. 
I  in  that  bowl  the  licadache  placed, 
Which,  with  the  juice,  his  lips  embraced. 
Shame  next  I  mingled  with  the  draught ; 
Indignantly  he  drank  and  laugh'd. 

3  In  the  bowl's  bottom  bankruptcy 

I  placed — he  drank  with  tears  and  glee. 

Remorse  did  I  into  it  pour ; 

He  only  sought  the  bowl  the  more. 

I  mingled  next  joint  torturing  pain  • 

Little  the  less  did  he  refrain. 

The  dropsy  in  the  cup  I  mix'd  ; 

Still  to  his  mouth  the  cup  was  fix'd. 

My  emissaries  thus  in  vain 

I  sent  the  mad  wretch  to  restrain.     • 

4  On  the  bowl's  bottom  then  myself 
I  threw  ;  the  most  abhorrent  elf 
Of  all  that  mortals  hate  or  dread ; 
And  thus  in  Sorrid  whispers  said — 
"  Successless  ministers  I've  sent, 
Thy  hastening  ruin  to  prevent ; 

Their  lessons  nought — then  here  am  I ; 
Think  not  my  threat'nings  to  defy. 
Swallow  this,  this  thy  last  'twill  be, 
For  with  it  thou  must  swallow  me" 

5  Haggard  his  eyes,  upright  his  hair, 
Remorse  his  lips,  his  cheeks  despair, 
With  shaking  hand  the  bowl  he  clasp'd, 
My  meatless  limbs  his  carcass  grasp'd 
And  bore  it  to  the  church-yard — where 
Thousands,  ere  I  would  call,  repair. 

6  Death  speaks — ah,  reader,  dost  thou  hear  ? 
Hast  thou  no  lurking  cause  to  fear  ? 

Has  not  o'er  thee  the  sparkling  bowl 
Constant,  commanding,  sly  control  1 


170  EXKRCI8KS. PAET    II.  [Ex.  50,  51. 

Betimes  reflect,  betimes  beware — 
Though  ruddy,  lit  althful  now  and  fair, 
Before  slow  reason  lose  the  sway, 
Reform — postponed  another  day, 
Too  soon  may  mix  with  comi; 


KXKKCISi:    51. 
Tht  Playue  in  Lomlon.  —  KOIUKI 

In  its  malignancy,  it  engrossed  the  ill  of  all  other  mala- 
dies, and  made  doctors  despicable.     Of  a  potency  equal 
to  death,  it  possessed  itself  of  all  his  armories,  Mid  was 
itself  the  death  of  every  other  mortal  distemper.     The 
5  touch,  yea,  the  \  of  the  infected,  was  deadly; 

and  its  signs  were  so  sudden,  that  families  seated  in  hap- 
piness at  their  meals,  have  seen  th<-  plague  spot  begin 
to  redden,  and  have  wildly  scattered  themselves  forever. 
The  cement  of  society  was  dissolved  by  it.  Mothers, 

10  when  they  saw  the  sign- of  the  infection  on  the  babes  at 
their  bosom,  cast  them  from  them  with  abhorrence. 
Wild  places  were  sought  for  shelter ; — some  went  into 
ships  and  anchored  themselves  afar  off  on  the  waters. 
But  the  angel  that  was  pouring  the  vi^l  had  a  foot  on  the 

15  sea,  as  well  as  on  the  dry  land.  No  place  was  so  wild, 
that  the  plague  did  not  visit — none  so  secret,  that  the 
quick-sighted  pestilence  did  not  discover,  none  could  fly 
that  it  did  not  overtake. 

It  was  as  if  Heaven  had,  repented  the  making  of  man- 

20  kind,  and  was  shoveling  them  all  into  the  sepulchre. 
Justice  was  forgotten.^and  her  courts  deserted.  The 
terrified  jailers  fled  from  the  felons  that  Were  in  fetters — 
the  innocent  and  the  guilty  leagued  themselves  together, 
and  kept  within  t!  .Trass  grew 

25  in  the  mark  Me  went  moaning  up  and 

down   tl  ••  of  their 

;>e,rs; — the  rooks  and  the  ravens  came  into  the  towns, 

and  built  th'-ir  nests  in  the  mute  belfries ; — silence  was 

universal,   save   when    s<>me   infected  wretch   was  seen 

30  clamoring  at  a  window. 

Fora  time  all  commerce  was  in  coffins  and  shrouds; 


Ex.  51.]  KXERCISKS. PART    II.  171 

but  even  that  ended.  Shrift  there  was  none;  churches 
and  chapels  were  open,  but  neither  priest  nor  peni- 
tent entered ;  all  went  to  the  charnel  house.  The  sex- 

85  ton  and  the  physician  were  cast  into  the  same  deep  and 
wide  grdve ; — the  testator  and  his  heirs  and  executors 
were  hurled  from  the  same  cart  into  the  same  hole  to- 
gether. Fire  became  extinguished,  as  if  it*  element 
too  had  expired  :  the  seams  of  the  sailorless  ship  yawn- 

40  ed  to  the  sun.  Though  doors  were  open,  and  coffers 
unwatched,  there  was  no  theft;  all  offences  ceased,  and 
no  calamity  but  the  universal  woe  of  the  pestilence  was 
heard  among  men.  The  wells  overflowed,  and  the  con- 
duits ran  to  waste ;  the  dogs  banded  themselves  together, 

45  having  lost  their  masters,  and  ran  howling  over  all  the 
land  ;  horses  perished  of  famine  in  their  stalls ;  old  friends 
but  looked  at  one  another  when  they  met,  keeping  them- 
selves far  aloof ;  creditors  claimed  no  debts,  and  courtiers 
performed  their  promises ;  little  children  went  wander- 

50  ing  up  and  down,  and  numbers  were  seen  dead  in  all 
corners.  Nor  was  it  only  in  England  that  the  plague  so 
raged :  it  traveled  over  a  third  part  of  -the  whole  earth, 
like  the  shadow  of  an  eclipse,  as  if  some  dreadful  thing 
had  been  interposed  between  the  world  and  the  sun- 

55  source  of  life. 

*  *  *  At  that  epoch,  for  a  short  time,  there  was 
a  silence,  and  every  person  in  the  street,  for  a  moment 
stood  still ;  London  was  as  dumb  as  a  church-yard.  Again 
the  sound  of  a  bell  was  heard ;  for  it  was  that  sound,  so 

60  long   unheard,    which   arrested   the    fugitive   multitude, 
and  caused  their  silence.     At  the  third  toll  a  universal 
shout  arose,  as  when  the  herald  proclaims  the  tidings  of 
a  great  battle  won,  and  then  there  was  a  second  silence. 
•    The  people  fell  on  their  knees,  and  with  anthems  of 

65  thankfulness  rejoiced  in  the  dismal  sound  of  that  tolling 
death-bell  ;  for  it  was  a  signal  of  the  plague  being  so 
abated  that  men  might  again  mourn  for  their  friends, 
and  hallow  their  remains  with  the  solemnities  of  burial.  • 


i.*.  -  FA»T    11  [E.t.   M. 


sa.     • 

Battle  of  Borodino.  —  A  .\osvnots. 


The  niu'ht  passed  slowly  over  the  wakeful  heads  of  the 
impatient  combatants.  The-  morning  of  the  7th  of 
September  at  length  broke.  and  thousands  beheld  the 
dawn  for  the  last  time.  —  The  moment  was  arrived,  when 
5  the  dreadful  discharge  of  two  thousand  cannon  was  to 
break  th-  of  expectation,  and  arouse  at  once  all 

the  horrors  of  war.     General  as  the  attack  seemed,  the 
corps  of  rrintv  Narration  had  to  sustain  the  accumulat 
id£  weight  of  nearly  half  the  Krem-h  array;  and  the  de- 

10  termination  shown  by  its  cavalry  was  BO  desperate,  that 
they  charged  up  to  the  mouth  of  the  Russian  guns.  — 
Whole  regiments  of  them,  both  horses  and  men,  were 
swept  down  by  the  cannon  shot;  and  all  along  the  front 
of  Bagration's  line,  arose  a  breast-work  of  dead  and  dy- 

15  ing.  Napoleon  ordered  up  6fty  additional  pieces  of  ar- 
tillery, and  a  fresh  division  of  infantry,  with  several  reg- 
iments of  dragooi  new  force  rushed  on,  over 

the  bodies  of  their  fallen  countrymen,  and  did  not  allow 
themselves  to  be  cheeked   until  they  reached  the  para- 

20  pets  of  the  Russian  works.  Their  vigorous  onset  over- 
turned with  6erce  sla  that  opposed 

them,  and  obliged  ri  to  fall  back  nearer  to  the 

second  lin-'  ••!  the  army.     The  rage  <  :t  this  cri- 

sis i-  f>od.     The  thunder  of  a  thousand 

_25  pieces  of  artillery  was  answered  by  the  discharge  of  an 
eqnal  number  on  the  part  of  the  Russians.  A  veil  of 
smoke  shut  out  the  c  s  from  the  sun,  and  left 

them  no  other  light   t  work  of  death  than 

the  flashes  of  musketry,  which  blazed  in  every 

30       The  sabres  of  40,000  dragoons  met  each  other,  and 
clashed  in  the  horrid  gloom  ;  and  the  bristling  poi: 
countless  bay  the  rolling  vapor, 

strewed  the  earth  with  heaps  of  si 

Such  was  the  scene  for  an  extent  of  many  wersts,  aad 

85  the  dreadful  con  :    without   cessation   until 

the  darkness  of  the  night.  —  This  closed  that  memorable 
day,  and  with  it  terminated  thousand 

human  beings.     The  horses  which  lay  on  the  ground, 
from  right  to  left,  numbered  full  25,000. 


Ex.   93,  98,]  EXER«tSE3. PART  II.  178 

40  The  next  day,  says  Labaume,  very  early  in  the  room- 
ing, we  returned  to  the  field  of  battle. — In  the  space  of 
a  square  league,  almost  every  spot  was  covered  with  the 
killed  and  wounded. — On  many  places,  the  bursting  of 
the  shells  had  promiscuously  heaped  together  men  and 

45  horses. 

But  the  most  horrid  spectacle  was  the  interior  of  the 
ravines  ,  almost  all  the  wounded,  who  were  able  to  drag 
themselves  along,  had  taken  refuge  there,  to  avoid  the 
shot.  These  miserable  wretches,  heaped  one  upon  an- 

50  other,  and  almost  suffocated  with  blood,  uttering  the 
most  dreadful  groans,  and  invoking  death  with  piercing 
cries,  eagerly  besought  us  to  put  an  end  to  their  tor- 
ments. 


EXERCISE  53. 
Shipwreck. — FREDERICKSBURG  ARENA. 

In  the  winter  of  1825 — Lieutenant  G ,  of  the 

United  States  Navy,  with  his  beautiful  wife  (the  most 
lovely  female  my  eyes-  ever  beheld)  and  infant  child, 
embarked  in  a  packet  at  Norfolk,  bound  to  South  Caro- 
5  lina.  'Tis  true  the  weather  was  extremely  cold,  but  as 
the  wind  was  favorable,  this  mode  of  getting  to  their 
friends  was  not  considered  more  hazardous,  than  the 
same  trip  by  stages  through  the  swamps  and  sands  of 
the  Carolinas.  Besides,  the  vessel  in  which  they  sailed 

10  was  a  well  known  and  popular  trader,  and  had  never 
encountered  an  accident  in  making  her  numerous  voy- 
ages. For  the  first  day  and  night  after  their  departure, 
the  wind  continued  fair,  and  the  weather  clear ;  but  on 
the  evening  of  the  second  day,  they  being  then  in  sight 

15  of  the  coast  of  North  Carolina,  a  severe  gale  sprung  up 
from  the  northward  and  westward,  and  towards  mid- 
night, the  Captain  judging  himself  much  farther  from  the 
land  than  he  really  was,  and  dreading  the  Gulf  stream, 
hauled  in  for  the  coast ;  but  with  the  intention,  it  is 

20  presumed,  of  lying  to,  when  he  supposed  himself  clear 

of  the  Gulf.  Lieut.  G did  not  approve  of  the 

Captain's  determination  to  stand  in  for  the  land,  and  the 
result  proved  that  his  objections  were  well  founded ;  for 
about  four  A.  M.  the  vessel  grounded.  Vain  would  it  be 


174  BXBHC13ES. PART    II.  E.X.   53. 

25  to  attempt  a  description  of  the  horror  which  was  depict- 
ed :  .wt'ul  shock,  occa- 
sioned by  tli  fssel's  bottom,  was  first 

•  •rienced.     The 
known   only    to    those    \\h» 

30  wrecked.     None    others    can    have   a    toforabfo    ]<:• 
what  passed  in  the   mi; 

•  <J   with  vacair  uents, 
and   felt  that    their   frail    bark    must   sooi  -    the 
next  thump,  be  dashed  to  pieces,  and   they  left   at   the 

35  mercy  of  the_  billows,   with   not  even  a  plank  b« 

themselves   and   eternity !      First    comes   the   thumping 
of  the  vessel — next   t.  .ng  of  the  raging  surge 

over  her  sides — then  the  receding  for  an  f  the 

waves,  causing  the  vessel  to  careen  on  her  K  am-eml.- — 

40  and  lastly,  the  crashing  of  the  spars  and  timbers  by  the 
returning  rollers — the  whole  exhibiting  a  scene  of  con- 
fusion and  horror,  of  which  the  most  vivid  language 
could  afford  but  a  cold  and  faint  picture.  But  awful  as 
this  is,  cheerless  as  are  the  shipwrecked  sailor's  pros- 

45  pects,  what  are  his  feelings  compared  to  the  agony  of  a 
fond  husband  and  father,  who  -  ;  embrace 

his  little  world,  his  beloved  •••  hild  ! 

Although  conscious  of  the   hopelessness  of  his  situa- 
tion— that  to  remain   by  th'  '•vas  death  !  and   to 

50  seek  the  shore,  which,  now  that  the  day  began  to  dawn, 

had    become   visible,   was   scarcely  .  still 

every  feeling  of  his  noble  nature  prompted  him  to  action. 

friend  was  a  seaman,  anil  a  brave  one:  accustomed 

to  danger,   and    quick  in   seizing  up  s  of 

55  rescuing  the  unfortunate.     lUu   ><'»r.  whu  were  the  un- 
•  d  upon  him   for   •  who  were 

.  louder  than  ti 
.id    which    no   human    j 
could    afford    them?      Hi-    "it"    and    child!      <>'    1 

60  rending  agony!  But  why  attempt  to  describe  what  few- 
can  imagine!  Tl. 

amplification.       In   a   word,   then,   th-  hich 

rr>uld   be  got  at  was  n  Mrs. 

(i and   child,  and   its  nuix-.w.  into  it — 

65  it   was    the    thought   •  The    • 

too  much.     Mr.   G saw  thk   and   knew 

that  tho  addition  of  himself  would  diminish  the  chances 


Ex.  58,  54.]          EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  175 

of  the  boat  reaching  the  shore  "in  safety ;  and  much  as 
he  deplored  the  necessity — horrible  as  was  the  alterna- 

70  tive — he  himself  gave  the  order ; — "  Push  off,  and  make 

for  the    land,  my  brave   lads !" — the   lost  words  which 

ever  passed  his  lips  !     The   order  was  obeyed ;  but  ere 

the  little  boat  had  proceeded  fifty  yards,  (about  half  the 

-   distance  to  the  beach,)  it  was  struck  on  the  quarter  by  a 

75  roller,  capsized,  and  boat,  passengers,  and  all,  enveloped, 
for  a  time,  in  the  angry  surge !  The  wretched  husband 
saw  but  too  distinctly  what  seemed  to  be  the  destruc- 
tion of  all  that  he  held  dear  !  But  here,  alas,  and  for- 
ever, were  shut  out  from  him  all  sublunary  prospects  ! 

80  He  fell  upon  the  deck  powerless — senseless — A  CORPSE  ! 
the  victim  of  a  sublime  sensibility !  But  what  became 
of  the  unhappy  wife  and  child  ?  The  answer  shall  be 

brief ;  Mrs.  G was  borne  through  the  breakers 

to  the  shore,  by  one  of  the  brave  sailors  ;  the  nurse  was 

85  thrown  upon  the  beach,  with  the  drowned  infant  grasped 

in  her  arms.  The  nurse  survived.  Mrs.  G was 

taken  to  a  hut  senseless — continued  delirious  many  days, 
but  finally  recovered  her  senses,  and  with  them  a  con- 
sciousness of  the  awful  catastrophe  which  in  a  moment 

90  made  her  A  CHILDLESS  WIDOW. 


EXERCISE  54. 
The  Bucket. — A  Cold  Water  Song. — WOODWORTH. 

1  How  dear  to  my  heart  are  the  scenes  of  my  childhood  ! 

When  fond  recollection  presents  them  to  view ; 
The  orchard,  the  meadow,  the  deep  tangled  wild-wood, 

And  every  loved  spot  which  my  infancy  knew : 
The  wide-spreading  pond,  and  the  mill  that  stood  by  it, 

The  bridge,  and  the  rock  where  the  cataract  fell ; 
The  cot  of  my  father,  the  dairy-house  nigh  it, 

And  e'en  the  rude  bucket  which  hung  in  the  well : 
The  old  oaken  bucket — the  iron-bound  bucket — 
The  moss-cover'd  bucket  which  hung  in  the  well. 

2  That  moss-covcr'd  vessel  I  hail  as  a  treasure — 

For  often  at  noon,  when  return'd  from  the  field, 
I  found  it  the  source  of  an  exquisite  pleasure, 
The  purest  and  sweetest  that  nature  can  yield. 


176  t  \LRCISK3. fABT    II.  [Kx.   0  1 

How  ardent  I  seized  it  with  hands  that  were  glowing, 

And  (juii-k  t->  th<-  white  pebbled  lx»tt<>rn  it  : 
Then  .soon,  with  tin-  »-mblena  of  truth  overflowing, 
And  dripping  with  coolness,  it  r  «-U  : 

The  old  oaken  bucket — th«-  imn-U.mnd  bucket — 
The-moss  cover'd  bucket  arose  from  the  well. 

3  How  sweet  from  the  green  mossy  brim  to  receive  it, 

As  poised  on  .1  to  my  1: 

Not  a  full,  blushing  g«-  I  tempt  me  to  leave  il, 

Though  fill'd  with  the  nectar  that  Jupiter  sips. 
And  now,  far  removed  from  that  loved  situation, 

The  tear  of  regret  will  intrusively  swell, 
As  fancy  reverts  to  my  father's  plantation, 

And  sighs  for  the  bucket  which  hangs  in  the  well : 
The  old  oaken  bucket — the  iron-bound  bucket — 
The  moss-cover'd  bucket,  which  bangs  in  the  well. 


EXERCISE  55. 
Anecdote  of  Judge  Marshall. — WINCHESTER  REPFBLICAN. 

It  is  not  long  since  a  gentleman  was  traveling  in  one 
of  the  counties  of  Virginia,  and  about  the  close  of  the 
day  stopped  at  a  public'  house,  to  obtain  refreshment  and 
spend  the  night,  lie  had  been  there  but  a  short  time, 
5  before  an  old  man  alighted  from  his  gig,  with  the  apparent 
intention  of  becoming  his  fellow-  he  same  house. 

As  the  old  mun  drove  up,  he  observed  that  both  the  shafts 
of  bis  gig  were  broken,  and  that  they  were  held  to^< 
by  withes  formed  from  the  bark  of  a  hickory  sapling. — 

10  Our  traveler  observed  further,  that   he  was   plainly  clad, 
that   his  kn»  •  .uid  that  something 

lik^  negligence   pervaded   his  dress.     Con  ..into 

be  one  of  the    \\»\.  \r    land,  the  court  — 

sies  of  strangers  passe.;  them,  ami  tl  • 

15  the  tavern.     It  was  about  the  same  time  that  an  addition 
of  t5  made  to  their  num- 

ber— mo  --m,  of   tli«-   1- 

As   soon  as   they 
the    OOttYeiMtioa    was   turned   bv  on.-  of  the    latter  upon 

20  an  eloquent  harangue  which  ha<i  played 

at   the    bar.      It   was   n-plifd    by  th'-    other,  that   he  had 
I  th'-  plonu6TM*c,  no  doubt 


Ex.  55.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  177 

equal,  but  that  it  was  from  the  pulpit.  Something  like 
a  sarcastic  rejoinder  was  made  to  the  eloquence  of  the 
25  pulpit ;  and  a  warm  and  able  altercation  ensued,  in  which 
the  merits  of  the  Christian  religion  became  the  subject 
of  discussion.  From  six  o'clock,  until  eleven,  the  young 
champions  wielded  the  swor,d  of  argument,  adducing 
with  ingenuity  and  ability  every  thing  that  could  be  said 
30  pro  and  con.  During  this  protracted  period,  the  old 
gentleman  listened  with  all  the  meekness  and  modesty 
of  a  child:  as  if  he  was  adding  new  information  to 
the  stores  of  his  own  mind ;  or  perhaps  he  was  ob- 
serving with  philosophic  eye  the  faculties  of  the  youth- 
35  ful  mind,  and  how  new  energies  are  evolved  by  repeated 
action ;  or,  perhaps,  with  patriotic  emotion,  he  was 
reflecting  upon  the  future  destinies  of  his  country,  and  on 
the  rising  generation  upon  whom  these  future  destinies 
must  devolve ;  or,  most  probably,  with  a  sentiment 
40  of  moral  and  religious  feeling,  he  was  collecting  an 
argument  which,  (characteristic  of  himself,)  no  art 
would  be  "  able  to  elude,  and  no  force  to  resist."  Our 
traveler  remained  a  spectator,  and  took  no  part  in  what 
was  said. 

45  At  last,  one  of  the  young  men,  remarking  that  it  was 
impossible  to  combat  with  long  and  established  preju- 
dices, wheeled  around",  and  with  some  familiarity,  ex- 
claimed, "  Well,  my  old  gentleman,  what  think  you  of 
these  things  ?"  If,  said  the  traveler,  a  streak  of  vivid 
50  lightning  had  at  that  moment  crossed  the  room,  their 
amazement  could  not  have  been  greater  than  it  was 
with  what  followed.  The  most  eloquent  and  unanswer- 
able appeal  was  made  for  nearly  an  hour,  by  the  old 
gentleman,  that  he  ever  heard  or  read.  So  perfect  was 
55  his  recollection,  that  every  argument  urged  against  the 
Christian  religion  was  met  in  the  order  in  which  it  was 
advanced.  Hume's  sophistry  on  the  subject  of  miracles, 
was,  if  possible,  more  perfectly  answered,  than  it  had 
already  been  done  by  Campbell.  And  in  the  whole 
60  lecture  there  was  so  much  simplicity  and  energy,  pathos 
and  sublimity,  that  not  another  word  was  uttered.  An 
attempt  to  describe  it,  said  the  traveler,  would  be  an 
attempt  to  paint  the  sunbeams.  It  was  now  a  matter  of 
curiosity  and  inquiry,  Avho  the  old  gentleman  was.  The 
C5  traveler  concluded  that  it  was  the  preacher  from  whom 


178  BXBKCIflK.4. PART    II. 

pulpit   eloquence  was   beard — but  no— it  was  the 
CHIKF  JUSTICE  OK  THK  UNITED  STATES. 


I:\I:KCISI:  se. 

The  First  and  Last  Ticket. — '  .IPT  OF  A  CRIMINAL. 

1'AKl      I. 

My  first  ticket  was  a  blank.     I  \v:is  persuade.: 
friend   to  buy  it,  who  temp:  .;>  i<>   view 

the  glittering  prize,  and  exciting  my  obtaining 

it.     i  was  not  disappointi-d  -nil  of  my  pur 

ii  although  a  curse  involuntarily  luirst  from  my  lip- 

i  h'r.-t   learned   it.      1   hardly  thought  of  drawing  a  high 
pri/c,  yet   the   possibili:  _(  .-o  fortunate  kept  my 

mind  iu  a  constant,  bin  nt.     I  was  a  \ 

man   then,  and   could    ill  afford   to  lose  the  cost  <>; 
1Q  tickn.     Howevi-r,  I   comforted    myself  with   the  reflec- 
tion, that  experience  must  be  paid  for.     I  also  made  a 
d« •!•  •rmination  that  I  would  not  be  so  foolish  again.     I 
kept  it  unbroken  for  >i\  months  :  yet  all  that  time  - 
was  a  whispering  in  my  ear — "  try  . 

•'•  J'irtHiuttt .'        1; 

ms — and  I  obeyed  it.      I  Ixai-iit  part  of  a  ticket  and 

v  live  hundred.      J  had   pre\i-iu*ly  to  this,  being  in  a 

good  situation,  and  with  every  i  "f  doing  well  in 

the  world,  engaged  myself  :  ,.  rti-n,  a  young  lady 

20  who   liad   long   possessed   my  She   was  one 

no,  1  >\ill  not,  I  ran  not  speak  of  her  as  she 

was.      Well,    shortly    after    my    --..>d    fortum — I    should 
.-ay    mi.yvrtunr — 1    married    her.       I    was     considerably 

•  d  with  my  lii-'k,  and  Heated  ~  freely. 

1'j  no( 
urg. 

•  t ,-,  I   ueii;    O«1  ding  to  return 

in   tl  .n   hour.     Un 

house,  I  passed  a  ! 
30    uj'.    and     in     the    wr 

schemes  of  chance,  and  im  •  pun  base.     1  had 

tried   my  lurk   siiu-e   my  maniage.  and   had   Ljiven  up 

it   [   p  i>-ed   by  the    \siin!  office 

my  lollowing,    in     illuminated    letters 

35  and    figures — "$10,0'  trill   be   heard  from    this 


Ex.  56.]  EXERCISES. PART  IF.  179' 

night.  Tickets  $5."  I  hesitated  a  moment,  then  walked 
on — "  Who  knows  but  what  I  may  get  it  ?"  I 
said  to  myself.  I  stopped — turned  about — still  hesitat- 
ing— "Try  again,"  I  heard,  and  retracing  my  steps,  I 
40  went  into  the  office.  A  number  of  my  acquaintances 
were  sitting  there  smoking. — The  vender  gave  me  a 
cigar,  and  after  a  while  asked  me  if  I  should  not  like 
to  try  my  luck  in  the  lottery,  which  he  was  expecting 
every  moment  to  hear  from ;  his  clerk  having  gone  out 
45  to  await  the  opening  of  the  mail.  So  saying,  he  handed 
me  out  a  package  of  quarters,  which  lie  prevailed  on 
me  to  take,  and  pay  twenty-five  dollars  ;  the  price  he  sold 
them  at.  The  clerk  soon  after  came  in  with  the  list  of 
the  drawing ;  and  I  left  the  office  that  evening,  one 
50  thousand  dollars  better  off  than  when  I  entered.  But 
where  for  ?  For  home  ?  No — for  the  tavern  ;  all  went 
for  a  treat.  At  midnight,  I  went  home  to  my  anxious, 
sleepless  wife,  in  a  fit  of  intoxication,  This  was  her  first 
experience.  *  *  * 

55  A  week  went  by,  and  Eliza  began  to  smile  again.  The 
excitement  I  was  in  that  night,  she  admitted  as  an  ex- 
cuse for  my  conduct.  But  she  tenderly  advised  me,  nay, 
on  her  knees,  in  the  stillness  of  our  chamber,  every  night 
she  implored  God  to  have  me  in  his  keeping, — to  pre- 
60  serve  me  from  temptation.  I  was  ashamed  of  myself; 
and  I  solemnly  swore  to  abstain  altogether  from  tickets.  - 
My  wife  was  herself  again.  Months  passed  away ; — a 
charge  was  intrusted  to  my  keeping — a  holy  charge.  I 
was  presented  with  a  son.  He  took  his  father's  name. 
65  Thank  God !  he  will  not  bear  his  sorrows — his  shame ! 
I  was  happy  as  man  need  be  for  a  year.  Business  pros- 
pered— I  enjoyed  good  health,  and  Avas  blessed  with  a 
happy  home,  where  all  was  peace. 

PART  II. 

I  said  I  was  happy — I  was  at  times ;  but  there  was  a 
secret  thirst  within  me  for  riches — and  yet  I  was  not 
avaricious — nor  was  I  parsimonious.  But  the  desire  had 
been  awakened — the -hope  had  been  encouraged,  that,  by 
5  venturing  little,  much  might  be  had  :  and  although  by 
lottery  gambling,  yet  a  burning  thought  of  gain — of  gain 
by  lotteries — agitated  me  day  and  night.  In  the  day 
time,  when  about  my  business,  the  thought  that  by  ven- 


180  •BBRi-l^U".  -  f  AB1    II.  [El.  50. 


turning  a  few  dollars  1  might  draw  enough    to  make  me 

10  independent  -to  allow  me  to  live  at  ease,  was 

uppermost  in  my  mind;  uud  cu-ry  night  I  received  a 
large  MUM  «-t"  pri/.«-  n»«>n.-y.  I  strove  to  banish  such 
desires  from  my  mind  ;  but  they  haunted  me  like  an  e\il 
spirit. 

15  About  eighteen  months  after  taking  my  oath,  a  grand 
tcheme  was  advertised  to  be  drawn  on  a  certain  day  in 
ray  own  town.  1  felt  a  strong  propensity  to  try  my 
luck  attain.  I  was  importuned  by  friends  t«>  buy 
tickets  —  the  sche;-  •  —  the-  chance  of  success 

20  was  so  great;  but  I  thought  <>t"  the  <>;ith  I  had  taken,  and 

was  firm  in  my  denial.     The  day  of  drawing  drew  nigh. 

\enderwho   sold    me  the    prize    urged   me  t"  take  ;i 

few   tickets  —  I  was   also    urgi'd    l»y    •  11    in    tho 

presence  of  my   wife,      i'.ut   1    re>i>t<_-d   it.      She,    tn, 

25  me,  said   not  a  word  —  she    knew   my  oath    was   ]>' 

—  she  knew  that  1  remembered  it,  —  and  she  had  o.nii 
denee  in  my  keeping  it  sacred.     She  only  gave  a  glance 
of  pleasure,  it  may  be  triumph.  ml    me    : 

my  friend's  invitation.  —  That  night    1  nat  a  par 

30  ticular  number  would  b»-  a  fortunate  out  —  that  I  purchas- 
ed it,  and  it  eame  uj<  the  highest  pri/.e.  When  I  arose  in 
the  morning  mv  tirmne-,s  was  a  little  shaken  —  it  was  tin- 
day  of  <:  A  friend  came  into  my  store  in  the 

forenoon,  and  me   a  parcel   .  .  amongst 

35  them  1  saw  tlie  numher  of  my  <lr»nn  .'     !!<•  otl'.-n  d  them 
to  me  —  I    forgot  mvself  —  I  mocked  my   Gixl  —  I   1 
my  oath  :    I  did  not  May  i:i  the  house  at  noon  any  longer 
than    to    hurry    through    witli     my    dinner.  —  My 
presence  was  a  burden  to  me  :   her  happy   smii 
40  lite  rful  tones  went  to  my  heart  like  a 

reproach.      l-'n>m   that    day  her    :  A.JS   ,i  curse  to 

me;  —  not  that  I  1  ;••  had  <  iianged 

—  but  how  could  I  stand    before   her.  pcrjiir.-d  as  I  was, 
and    she    tin-    \vh;  'iiUing    my    iiinocenct  —  hyw 

45  could    I   without    feeling    my    unhol.  \    thousand 

times  that  forenoon  did  I  resolve   to  seek  my  friend    and 

.in    him    ;  did    I    luvak    them. 

heavily.      Hut  the  prize,  thought  I,  will 

chc->  to   think  paltry  gold   would    reconcile 

bQ  nn    olfended     (iod  —  would    buy    oil'    p:i.  The 

lotler\    w.u    drawn    that   afternoon.       i  ,;ng   I  sat 


Ex.  56.]  EXERCfSES. PART    II.  181 

alone  with  my  wife  in  her  room.  She  was  talking  of 
the  folly  of  some  men,  in  not  being  contented  with  what 
they  possessed,  and  for  being  ever  on  the  search  for  more. 

55  "  How  many  hearts  have  been  agitated — wound  up  to  the 
highest  pitch,  this  afternoon,  in  hopes  of  drawing  a  prize," 
said  she.  What  could  I  do  ?  I  was  there,  and  had  to 
listen  to  her,  although  each  word  seemed  like  a  burning 
coal  at  my  heart.  She  continued —  , 

60  "And  how  many  have  spent  that,  which  should  have 
gone  for  bread  and  clothing  for  their  families — and  for 
what  ?  For  a  vain  hope  of  obtaining  more !  for  a  piece 
of  mere  colored  paper!  And  think  you,  my  husband, 
there  have  been  no  vows  violated,  no  oaths  broken  this 

65  afternoon  ?"  I  made  no  answer,  and  she  went  on — "  If 
there  are  any  such,  and  if  they  have  been  unfortunate, 
how  bitter  must  be  their  disappointment,  and  how  doubly 
keen  their  remorse  !  Are  you  not,  David,  better  pleased 
with  yourself  this  evening  for  not  buying  tickets — 

70  allowing  you  had  not  pledged  your  oath  not  to  med- 
dle with  them — than  you  would  have  been,  had  you  pur- 
chased them  and  made  money  by  it?"  Thus  did  the 
woman  talk  to  me,  as  though  I  were  as  pure  and  guilt- 
less as  herself.  She  knew  not  that  at  the  moment  her 

75  words  were  like  daggers  to  my  heart — that  at  every  mo- 
tion of  her  lips  my  soul  writhed  in  agony ; — she  knew 
not  that  my  pocket-book  was  crammed  with  the  accursed 
tickets — Hank  tickets!  And  when  she  poured  out  her 
soul  in  prayer  that  night,  she  knew  not  that  he,  for 

80  whom  she  prayed,  dared  not  listen  to  her  words,  but 
stopped  his  ears.  So  it  was.  *  *  .  * 

"Do,  my  dear  husband,  stay  at  home,  one  evening 
this  week  !  You  shall  read  to  me,  or  I  will  read  to  you ! 
come,  keep  me  company  this  evening."  Thus  said  my 

85  wife  one  evening,  as  she  took  me  affectionately  by  the 
arm,  a  tear  at  the  same  time  filling  her  eye.  Brute  that 
I  was  !  I  shook  her  off  repulsively,  scarcely  deigning 
her  a  reply  as  I  went  out.  I  was  an  altered  man — my 
innocence  had  departed  from  me — I  had  perjured  my- 

90  self.  My  oath  once  broken,  I  still  continued  to  break 
it.  Not  a  lottery  was  drawn  but  that  I  had  some  chance 
in  it.  Ill  luck  attended  me.  Blanks — blanks  were  my 
portion.  Still  I  kept  on.  Most  of  my  hours  were  spent 
in  lottery  offices.  I  neglected  my  business — debts  ac- 


168  EXERCISES PART    II.  [F.V.  56. 


;:nulated — wants  cam«-   up«.n   me  :    and    I    had    nothing 
to  satisfy  them  witli  but  a  hope — a  hope,  that  at  th- 
drawing  I  should   !•••  hi,  ky.     As  cares  increased  I  went 
to  a   tavern   for  relief.      K  :,awcd  at  my  heart 

like  a  worm.      It  had  drank  up  all  my  happiness.     When 

100  I  first  broke  my  oath  I  thought  gold  would  still  m 

science.  Gold  I  had  none,  so  1  attempted  to  ease  it  by 
strong  drink.  Hum  burnt  up  my  tender  feelings — my 
better  nature  ;  but  it  only  added  to  the  quenchless  fire 
that  was  raging  at  my  heart.  I  uncommon  for 

105  me  at  this  stage,  to  get  int<  a^ht.    Oft  have 

I  staggered  home  to  my  patient,  dying  Kliza — for  my 
conduct  was  making  sad  inroads  on  a  constitution  natu- 
rally delicate;  and  without  a  shadow  of  cause  fell  to 
abusing  her.  What  insult  and  misery  has  not  that 

110  woman  endured  !  and  all  brought  on  by  me,  her  husband, 
her  protector!     About  this  time  our  child  died.      1  dare 
not  think  of  his  death — how  it   was  brought  on. 
poor  child  mi»iht  have  lived   limber — perhaps  he  might — 
but  he  complained  of  1  •  i   sometimes,  of  wanting 

115  clothes;  and  sometime*  his  cry  for  bread  was  vain.  It 
was  a  great  shock  to  im  \\ii-- ;  and  her  gnidual  failing, 
day  by  day  sobered  me,  and  made  me  thoughtful.  But 
what  had  1  to  do  with  r<  faction?  The  past  was  made 
up  of  sharp  points,  and  when  1  turned  to  it,  I  was 

120 pierced!  and  the  future — what  could  1  nntirijMte ?  what 
was  there  in  store  for  me  ?  So  I  closed  my  ears — shut 
my  heart  to  the  starving  condition  of  Kliza,  and  became, 
a  brute  again.  ****** 

PAK,    III. 

It  was  in  the  evening  of  a  wet,  cloudy  day,  that  I  sal- 
lied forth  from  my  Ixmrdiri;,'  hovel,  to  shame  and  sin,  in 
learn  tin-  fate  of  my  /•>  n  it.  1  had  to 

dispose  of  a    Bible,  which  belonged  to  my  late  wife — my 
5  dead    Kliza — and   which  was   tin-   d\  r  mo- 

ther. It  was  the  la»t  tiling  that  I  held  that  had  belonged 
to  her.  One  by  •  I  disposed  of  what  litt 

feet*    she   left,    to   reality    my    pas.sion    for  drinking  and 
..bling.      1    had    lost  all   leeling«  of  shame.     My  wife 
10  li  >vo  yean. 

ick't   I   now   had   was  to  seal  my  fate.     I  had 
fasted  more  than  one  dav  to  obtain  means  to 


Ex.   56.]  KXERCISES. PART    If.  183 

it ;  I  had  even  stinted  my  drink  for  means,   so  strong 
was  my  passion  for  gambling.     Well,  I  went  into  the 

15  office  and  called  for  the  prize  list.  At  a  glance,  I  saw 
my  hopes  were  frustrated ;  and  crushing  the  list  con- 
vulsively in  my  hand,  I  muttered  a  deep  oath  and  stalked 
out  of  the  office.  That  ticket  indeed  sealed  my  fate. 
"  The  world  owes  me  a  living,  and  a  living  I  will  have !" 

20  I  said  to  myself,  as  I  turned  away  with  a  despairing 
heart,  and  walked  up  the  street.  My  mind  was  suddenly 
made  up  to  a  strong  purpose.  "  There  is  money !"  I 
said  between  my  teeth,  as  I  sauntered  along  meditating 
some  desperate  deed.  I  knew  not  the  time  of  night ; 

25  it  was  late  however,  for  the  stores  were  all  closed,  when 
a  man  brushed  by  me.  As  he  passed  I  saw  it  was  the 
vender  of  tickets — the  man  who  had  sold  me  the  first 
and  last  ticket ! — the  man  to  whom  I  had  paid  dollar 
after  dollar,  until  all  was  gone.  He  had  a  trunk  in  his 

30  hand,  and  was  probably  going  home.  "  This  man," 
thought  I,  "  has  received  from  me  even  to  the  last  far- 
thing ;  shall  not  I  be  justified  in  compelling  him  to  re- 
turn a  part  ?  at  least  ought  he  not  to  be  made  to  give  me 
something  to  relieve  my  misery — to  keep  me  from  starv- 

35  ing  ?"  Such  was  my  reasoning,  as  I  buttoned  my  jacket 
and  slowly  followed  him.  Before  reaching  his  house, 
he  had  to  pass  over  a  lonely  space,  Avhere  there  were 
no  houses,  and  at  that  time  of  the  night  but  little  pass- 
ing. He  had  gone  over  half  this  space,  when  I  stepped 

40  quickly  and  Avarily  behind  him  ;  and  grasping  with  one 
hand  his  collar  and  with  the  other  his  trunk, -in  a  gruff 
voice  demanded  his  money.  The  words  were  barely 
uttered  before  I  was  grappled  by  the  throat.  He  was  a 
strong  man,  and  he  had  a  dangerous  hold.  I  put  forth 

45  all  my  strength  to  shake  off  his  grasp,  striking  him  at 
the  same  time  in  the  face  and  breast,  but  without  avail — 
he  still  kept  his  hold.  Finding  that  something  decisive 
must  be  done,  for  I  could  with  difficulty  breathe,  I 
clasped  him  round  the  middle,  and  giving  him  a  sudden 

50  jerk,  we  both  fell  to  the  ground.  I  fell  underneath, 
and  he  had  me  in  his  power.  I  struggled  in  vain  to 
free  myself.  He  still  held  me  by  the  throat,  and  he 
began  to  cry  for  assistance. — What  was  to  be  done  ?  I 
had  a  jack-knife  in  my  pocket — there  was  no  time  for 

55  reflection — my  left  hand  was  free — it  was  the  work  of 
a  moment — the  hot  blood  spirted  from  his  heart  full  in 


184  KXKRWIBEH. I-AET    II.  [Ex.  5ti,  57. 

my  face.     His  hold    relaxed,  and  giving  a  terrible  groan, 

he  rolled  on  tin-   Around  in  agony.     1  sprang   upon  mv 

.   and   snatched    the    trunk;  as   I  moved  away  in  tin* 

60  darkness,  the  death  rattle  in  tin-  throat  uf  my  victim  came 

:'ully  upon  my  ears. 

What  followed  until  I   found   myself   chained  in   this 
dungeon,   I   know  not.      1  have  a  faint  re-collection  of  fly- 
ing from  the  spot   where  lay  the   dying  man ;  of  being 
65  aroused  in  the  morning  by  the  officers  of  justice : — of  a 
court-room,  where  were  displayed  the  trunk  found  in  my 
possession,  and  a  knife  taken  from  the  brea-t  of  the  corpse 
with    my  name  on  the    handle.     I   have  a  more   distinct 
recollection  of  an  after  trial  and  of  a  condemnation  ;  and 
70  to-morrow  the  jailer  tells  me  I  am  to  die — to  be  publicly 
uted.     I  acknowledge  the  j  .  :uy  punishment 

— I  deserve  death  ;  and  may   God  show  mercy  to  him 
who  showed  no  niercv  ! 


EXERCISE  57. 
Death  at  the  Toiltt. — DIARY  OF  A  PIIVSICIVN. 

"Why,  what   in  the    world  can  Charlotte    be  doing  all 

this   while?"    inquired    hej-  mother.      She    listened — "I 

have  not  heard   her  moving   for  the  last  three-quarters  of 

an   hour!      I'll    call   the    in:. id.  and   a.-k."     She  rung  the 

5   bell,  and  the  servant  app<, 

"Betty.    Miss  J is  not  g<  "Go 

up  to  her  ro  .  and   see  if  she   wants  any  thing, 

and  tell    her  it's    half  p.i-t  i,;ne   o'clock."  said   Mrv  .1 . 

The   servant  accordingly  went   n;  .ml    knocked  nt 

in    tli.-    bi-droorn    door.    onc«\    t  u  !<•.•,  timer,    but 

\er.       Tii  \shen    the 

wind  >hook   the  window.      <  -,  J have  fallen 

asle-  She   kn<»-ki-d    a-^ain.  but   un- 

15   Rti'l  ':c-d  the  door  and  en 

Th-  .1 sitting    at    the    glass. 

ma'am  '."   coinim-n  J.king 

»i[i    to    1,  ,    I.een   knocking  for  these   ti\e 

nu'nutes,  and '  i;..rror  struck  ' 

20  bed  i  ;.  'i  1  shri'-k,  alarmed  Mrs.  J ,  who 

instantly   tott<  red    up  stairs,  almost  palsied  with  fright. 
Mi**  .1 wns  d 


Ex.  58.]  KXERCISES. PART    II.  185 

I  was  there  within  a  fc\v  minutes,  for  my  house  was 
not  more  than  two  streets  distant.  It  was  a  stormy 

25  night  in  March  :  and  the  desolate  aspect  of  things  with- 
out— deserted  streets — the  dreary  howling  of  the  wind, 
and  the  incessant  pattering  of  the  rain — contributed  to 
cast  a  gloom  over  my  mind,  when  connected  with  the 
intelligence  of  the  awful  event  tfiat  had  summoned  me 

30  out,  which  was  deepened  into  horror  by  the  spectacle 
I  was  doomed  to  witness.  On  reaching  the  house,  I 

found  Mrs.    J in  violent   hysterics,   surrounded  by 

several  of  her  .neighbors,  who  had  been  called  to  her  as- 
sistance. I  repaired  to  the  scene  of  death,  and  beheld 

35  what  I  never  shall  forget.  The  room  was  occupied  by 
a  white-curtained  bed.  There  was  but  one  window, 
and  before  it  was  a  table,  on  which  stood  a  looking- 
glass,  hung  with  a  little  white  drapery ;  and  various 
paraphernalia  of  the  toilet  lay  scattered  about — pins, 

40  brooches,  curling-papers,  ribins,  gloves,  &c.  An  arm- 
chair was  drawn  to  this  table,  and  in  it  sat  Miss  J , 

stone  dead.  Her  head  rested  upon  her  right  hand,  her 
elbow  supported  by  the  table  ;  while  her  left  hung  down 
by  her  side,  grasping  a  pair  of  curling-irons. — Each  of 

45  her  wrists  was  encircled  by  a  showy  gilt  bracelet.  She 
was  dressed  in  a  white  muslin  frock,  with  a  little  bor- 
dering of  blonde.  Her  face  was  turned  towards  the 
glass,  which  by  the  light  of  the  expiring  candle,  reflect- 
ed with  frightful  fidelity  the  clammy,  fixed  features, 

50  daubed  with  rouge  and  carmine — the  fallen  lower  jaw — 
and  the  eyes  directed  full  into  the  glass,  with  a  cold 
stare,  that  was  appalling.  On  examining  the  counte- 
nance more  narrowly,  I  thought  I  detected  the  traces  of 
a  smirk  of  conceit  and  self-complacency,  which  not  even 

55  the  palsying  hand  of  death  could  wholly  obliterate. 
The  hair  of  the  corpse,  all  smooth  and  glossy,  was 
curled  with  elaborate  precision ;  and  the  skinny  sallow 
neck  was  encircled  with  a  string  of  glistening  pearls. 
The  ghastly  visage  of  death  thus  leering  through  the 

GO  tinselry  of  fashion — the  "  vain  show"  of  artificial  joy — 
was  a  horrible  mockery  of  the  fooleries  of  life  ! 

Indeed  it  was  a  most  humiliating  and  shocking  spec- 
tacle. Poor  creature  !  struck  dead  in  the  very  act  of 
sacrificing  at  the  shrine  of  female  vanity  ! 

65     On  examination  of  the  body,  we  found  that  death  had 


180  EXERCISES. PART    II.  [El.  57,  58.     - 

been  occasioned  by  disease  of  the  heart.  Her  life  might 
have  been  protracted,  possibly  fur  years,  had  she  but 
taken  my  advice,  and  that  of  her  mother.  I  have 
many  hundreds  of  corpses,  as  well  in  the  calm  compo- 
ire  of  natural  death,  as  mangled  and  distorted  by  vio- 
lence ;  but  never  Jiave  I  seen  so  startling  a  satire  upon 
human  vanity,  so  repulsive,  so  unsightly,  and  loathsome  a 
spectacle,  as  a  corpse  dn  .v.v<  (/  fur  a  ball ! 


KXKRCISE  68. 
Salbath  Schools. — FREU  NG  11  r  VSKH. 

We  have  witnessed,  with  grateful  interest,  the  progress 
of  Sabbath  School  instruction.  I  ^r  has  furnished 

some  fresh  proofs  of  its  substantial  benefits.  Take  a 
single  illustration  in  your  city ;  a  recent  investigation 
5  ascertained  that,  of  twelve  thousand  children  who  had 
shared  in  the  blessings  of  this  institution,  not  one  had 
ever  been  arraigned  for  crime.  This  is  a  volume  of 
commendation;  but,  sir,  it  is  only  the  beginning  of  good. 
The  next  age  will  witness  some  of  the  fulness  of  its  mer- 

10  cies,  when  these  children  shall  take  our  places,  and  as- 
sume upon  them  the  duties  of  men  and  citi. 

I  hasten  to  the  appropriate  business  of  this  evening. 
A  noble  impulse  has  been  given  to  this  sacred  cause  in 
a  neighboring  city  ;  it  has  reached  the  friends  of  truth 

15  and  awakened  a  kindred  spirit  here.  The  moral  condi- 
tion and  prospects  of  the  West — the  influence  which  it 
will  very  soon  exert  in  the  public  councils  of  our  coun- 
try, and  its  own  distinct  claims,  as  an  important  part  of 
ourselves,  combined  a  weight  of  interest  in  its  behalf, 
a  has  attracted  general  concern  and  distinguished 
liberality.  I  advert  to  the  share,  that  will  soon  be 
taken  by  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi,  in  our  -national 
concerns.  Sir,  the  children  will,  after  a  few  more  yean, 
give  the  law  to  the  mother.  This  infant  \V- 

25  attaining  to  a  giant's  dimension-;  and  its  power  will  be 
tremendous,  unless  controlled  by  principle.  Washing- 
ton, who  had  studied  the  human  :  under  many 
di\.-r-ities,  came  to  the  full  <"on\iction,  that  no  prin- 
ciple could  bo  safely  trusted,  which  did  not  flow  from  a 

30  sense  of  religious  obligation;  and  an  infinitely  greater 


Ex.   58.]  EXEUCISE3. PART    II.  187 

than  Washington  had  ages  before  proclaimed  the  same 
truth.  In  this  Valley  of  the  West,  upwards  of  four  mill- 
ions of  freemen  have,  with  astonishing  rapidity,  peopled 
the  fairest  regions  of  our  republic ;  and  the  eventful 

35  question  to  be  resolved  is,  how  we  shall  most  happily 
fashion  the  elements  of  these  rising  communities  ;  whether 
by  our  benignant  regards,  they  shall  aid  to  strengthen 
the  cords  of  our  union ;  whether  they  shall  cherish 
the  principles  of  private  and  public  virtue ;  or  whether 

40  by  our  neglect,  they  shall  be  left  to  exhibit  the  melan- 
choly spectacle  of  universal  degeneracy  of  manners, 
among  a  people,  but  yesterday  born  into  political  exist- 
ence. Sir,  this  is  the  true,  honest  question.  We  can- 
not, and  we  ought  not  to  evade  it.  It  is  put  to  us  as 

45  Christians  and  as  American  citizens.  These  sister  states 
of  the  West  possess  capacities  for  good  or  evil,  that  can- 
not be  trifled  with  or  disregarded.  Rightly  influenced, 
immense  blessings  will  reward  our  philanthropy — but 
should  we  suffer  them  to  grow  on,  with  no  moral  culture, 

50  floods  of  wickedness  will  by  and  by  come  over  upon 
us,  that  will  sweep  away  the  last  vestiges  of  hope  and 
freedom.  I  lately  heard  from  a  distinguished  citizen  of 
that  section  of  the  Union,  the  evil,  and  the  antidote  in 
one  short  sentence.  While  deploring  the  frequent  oc- 

55  currence  of  street  murders — sometimes  by  men  high  in 
official  stations,  he  remarked,  that  the  terrors  of  law  in- 
terposed no  check,  and  that  his  hope  rested  in  the  ref- 
ormation of  public  sentiment :  there,  said  he,  the  mis- 
chief receives  its  countenance,  and  there  we  must  look 

60  for  its  corrective.  This  was  the  language  of  truth  and 
soberness.  When  the  late  movement  in  Philadelphia 
was  announced,  it  was  hailed  as  the  harbinger  of  incal- 
culable blessings.  A  fountain  was  to  be  opened,  whose 
healthful  streams  would  send  forth  richer  benefits  to  the 

65  Valley  of  the  Mississippi,  than  all  their  majestic  rivers. 
The  Sunday  schools  will  reform  that  perverted  public 
opinion,  that  sanctions  the  deeds  of  the  transgressor. 
They  will  purify  the  elements  of  society ;  they  will 
arrest  the  torrent  of  corruption ;  erect  the  standard  of 

70  sound  principles,  and,  by  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  save 
the  country  and  perpetuate  her  liberties.  A  cause,  thus 
exalted  in  its  aims,  this  evening  addresses  itself  to 
the  philanthropy  of  a  generous  people.  It  becomes 


1S6  .itcisBs. — PART  n.  [Ex.  56,  ID. 

not  a  stranger  ti>  press  tliis  suit.      It  befits  the 

75   h<.  of  it.  that  a  nobler  diarity  could  not  well 

engage  <»ur  s\  mpathies.  To  raise  an  empire  of  immor- 
tal beings  to  the  dignity  of  virtuous  freemen  ;  to  send 
forth  moral  influences  among  them,  that  shall  establish 
tlie  lia.-isof  political  prosperity  ;  that  shall  rai-e  a  p- 

80   tion  around    the    sacred     privileges    of  the    t' 

secure  the  Jiearth  and  the  altar  from  rude  invasion.  And 
more  than  this — to  open  to  them  the  pathway  to  a  blessed 
immortality,  to  fill  up  time  with  social  comforts,  to  gild 
its  close  with  consolation,  and  crown  t!  with 

86  imperishable  happiness.     Sir,  what  are  earthly  sc.cj 

— what  is  human  wealth  and  greatne->.  compared  with 
such  a  vision?  And  in  the  just  hope  that  it  may  shonly 
be  realized,  who  can  longer  gra-p  hi-  ^oM  .'  Where 
or  1  .\ealth  accomplish  for  us,  more  substantial 

90  or  sublime  pleasures.  Patriotism  in  its  boldest  concep- 
tions, cannot  aspire  to  a  purer  bliss  than  this — To  elevate 
an  extensive  body  of  enterprising  men,  to  secure  them 
from  the  wasteful  inlluence  of  irreligion  and  crime;  and 
bring  up  millions  of  our  fellow-men.  airily  of  a 

95  virtuous  community.      Sir.  failure  in  Midi   an  entrrpri>e, 
would   U-  no  common  calamity.      Hut  we   need   not   fail. 
The  faithful  consecration  of  our  best  efforts,  is  doMined 
to  demolish  the  throne  of  the  prince  of  darkness 
honored  will  be  the  humblest  man,  permitted  to  raise  a 

100  finger  in  the  work. 


I  XERCISE  69. 
The  follij  ami  wickedness  of  War. — K- 

Ywo  poor  mortals.   devat»-d    with   the  di.-tinction  of  a 

golden   bauble  oil  their  he;td>,   i"dled   .1 

at  each  other,  without  any  reason,  or  with  the  \cry  bad 
one  of  wishing  for  an  opportunity  of  aggrandizing  tln-m- 
5  selve«,    by    making    reciprocal    d.-pi. 

tun  >   of  the    court,  and    the    leading    men    of  i 
who  are  usually  under  the   influence  of  the  court,  r- 
(for   it  U  their  interest)  to  support  their  royal   master, 
and  are  never  at  a  loss  to  invent  some  colorable 
10  teiire    !>r    engaging    the    nation    in    war.     Taxes  of  the 


Ex.   59.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  189 

most  burdensome  kind  are  levied,  soldiers  are  collected, 
so  as  to  leave  a  paucity  of  husbandmen ;  reviews  and 
encampments  succeed ;  and  at  last  fifteen  or  twenty 
thousand  men  meet  on  a  plain,  and  coolly  shed  each 

15  other's  blood,  without  the  smallest  personal  animosity, 
or  the  shadow  of  a  provocation.  The  kings,  in  the 
meantime,  and  the  grandees,  who  have  employed  these 
poor  innocent  victims  to  shoot  bullets  at  each  other's 
heads,  remain  quietly  at  home,  and  amuse  themselves,  in 

20  the  intervals  of  balls,  hunting  schemes,  and  pleasures 
of  every  species,  with  reading  at  the  fireside,  and  over  a 
cup  of  chocolate,  the  dispatches  from  the  army,  and  the 
news  in  the  Extraordinary  Gazette.  If  the  King  of 
Prussia  were  not  at  the  head  of  some  of  the  best  troops 

25  in  the  world,  he  would  be  judged  more  worthy  of  being 
tried,  and  condemned,  at  the  Old  Bailey,  than  any 
shedder  of  blood  who  ever  died  by  a  halter.  But  he 
is  a  king ;  but  he  is  a  hero ; — those  names  fascinate 
us,  and  we  enroll  the  butcher  of  mankind  among  their 

30  benefactors. 

When  one  -considers  the  dreadful  circumstances  that 
attend  even  victories,  one  cannot  help  being  a  little 
shocked  at  the  exultation  which  they  occasion.  I  have 
often  thought  it  would  be  a  laughable  scene,  if  there 

35  were  not  too  much  of  the  melancholy  in  it,  when  a  circle 
of  eager  politicians  have  met  to  congratulate  each  other 
on  a  piece  of  good  news  just  arrived.  Every  eye  sparkles 
with  delight ;  every  voice  is  raised  in  announcing  the 
happy  event.  And  what  is  the  cause  of  all  this  joy  ? 

40  and  for  what  are  our  windows  illuminated,  bonfires 
kindled,  bells  rung,  and  feasts  celebrated  ?  We  have 
had  a  successful  engagement.  We  have  left  a  thousand 
of  the  enemy  dead  on  the  field  of  battle,  and  only  nine 
hundred  of  our  countrymen.  Charming  news  !  it  was  a 

45  glorious  battle !  But  before  you  give  a  loose  to  your 
raptures,  pause  awhile ;  and  consider,  that  to  every  one 
of  these  nineteen  hundred,  life  was  no  less  sweet  than 
it  is  to  you;  that  to  the  far  greater  part  of  them  there 
probably  were  wives,  fathers,  mothers,  sons,  daughters, 

50  sisters,  brothers,  and  friends,  all  of  whom  are  at  this  mo- 
ment bewailing  that  event  which  occasions  your  foolish 
and  brutal  triumph*  » 


0  I.XKRCI8B8. PART    II.  [Ex.   00. 

EXERCISE  60. 

The  Warrior. — HAKIIINCJKK  OF  PEACE. 

1  A  gallant  form  is  passing  by, 

The  plume  bends  oVr  hi*  lordly  hrow ; 
A  thousand  tongues  have  raised  on  high 

His  song  of  triumph  now. 
Young  knrrs  are  ln-nding  round  his  way, 
And  age  makes  ban-  his  lucks  of  gray. 

2  Fair  forms  have  lent  their  gladdest  smile, 

White  hands  h  1  the  conqueror  «>n, 

And  flowers  have  di-ck'd  his  path  the  while, 

By  gentle  tin  \  n. 

Soft  tones  have  cheer'd  him.  and  the  brow 
Of  beauty  beams,  uncover'd  now. 

3  The  bard  hath  waked  the  song  for  him, 

And  pour'd  his  boldest  numbers  forth  ; 
The  wine  cup,  sparkling  to  the  brim, 

Adds  fren/y  to  the  mirth  ; 
And  every  tongue,  and  every  rye, 
-    Does  homage  to  the  passer  by. 

4  (<)  The  gallant  steed  tu-ads  proudly  on; 

His  foot  falls  firmly  now,  as  when 
In  strife  that  iron  heel  went  down 

Upon  the  hearts  of  nn  u  ; 
And  foremost  in  the  ranks  of  strife, 
Trod  out  the  last,  dim  spark  of  1 

5  Dream  they  of  these — tin-  glad  and  gay, 

That  bend  around  the  conqueror's  path? 
The  horrors  of  thi-  conflict  day — 

The  gloomy  field  of  death — 
The  ghastly  slain — the  M-VI -r'd  head — 
Th'  Doping  o'er  the  dead  '.' 

6  Diirk  thoughts  and  fearful  '  yet  they  bring 

No  terrors  to  the  triumph  hour. 
Nor  stay  the  reckless  worshiping 

Of  blended  crime  and  p 
The  fair  of  form,  the  mild  of  mood, 
Do  honor  to  flio  nun  of  blood. 


Ex.  60,  61.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  191 

7  Men — Christians  !  pause — the  air  ye  breathe 

Is  poison' d  by  your  idol  now  ; 
And  will  ye  turn  to  him,  and  wreathe 

Your  chaplets  round  his  brow  ? 
Nay,  call  his  darkest  deeds  sublime  ? 
And  smile  assent  to  giant  crime  ? 


EXERCISE   61. 
Death  of  Ashmun. — MRS.  SIGOURNEY. 

1  ( — )  Whose  is  yon  sable  bier  ? 

Why  move  the  throng  so  slow  ? 
v    Why  doth  that  lonely  mother's  tear  \ 

In  sudden  anguish  flow  ? 
Why  is  that  sleeper  laid 

To  rest  in  manhood's  gride  ? 
How  gain'd  his  cheeks  such  pallid  shade  ? — 
I  spake, — but  none  replied. 

2  (0)  The  hoarse  wave  murmur'd  low, 

The  distant  surges  roar'd  ; — 
And  o'er  the  sea  in  tones  of  woe 

A  deep  response  was  pour'd  ;t 
I  heard  sad  Africk  mourn 

Upon  her  billowy  strand ; — 
&.  shield  was  from  her  bosom  torn, 

An  anchor  from  her  hand. 

8  ( — )  Ah !  well  I  know  thee  now, 

Though  foreign  suns  would  trace 
Deep  lines  of  death  upon  thy  brow, 

Thou  friend  of  misery's  race  ; — 
Their  leader  when  the  blast  ' 

Of  ruthless  war  swept  by, 
Their  teacher  when  the  storm  was  past, 

Their  guide  to  worlds  on  high. 

4  Spirit  of  Power, — pass  on  ! — 

Thy  homeward  wing  is  free  ;— 
Earth  may  not  claim  thee  for  her  son, — 
She  hath  no  chain  for  thee : — 


-  PART    11.  [ 


down,  — 
.  — 

\>in  thy  birthright  crown,  — 
Gd  to  thy  6*1.  i  \ce. 

\:\\:\K  [si: 

Lore  <>f  Afifilunnf.  —  H  v 

To  be   insen-ilile-  tu   public   opinion,  or   to   r 
lion  in  which  NM-  ai  iiiy  thing, 

nithcr  than  a  good  and  gi-nerous  spirit.  It  is  indeed 
the  mark  of  a  low  and  worthle>-  -T  ;  —  devoid  of 

5  principle,    and    therefore    devoid    of 

man  is  n«-t  far  irorn  ruin,  wln-n  ]}<•  can  sav,  without 
blushing,  /  '•••  'hat  otkerj  thin 

But   to  Imv.-  a  pp';  aion  is  one 

thing;  to  make  that   opinion   our  rul<-  of  (juite 

10  another.     The   one    we    m.  >:)>istently    witli 

the  purest  virtue,  and  the  most  unhcndint;  rectitude^; 
the  other  we  cannot  adopt,  \sithoiit  an  utter  abandon- 
ment of  principle  and  disn-irard  of  dntv.  The  young 
man  whose  threat  aim  i^  to  p!«-a*«-,  \vlio  mak«-s  the  opin- 

15   ion  and   favor  of  others   ln->   rule   and    motive  of  action; 

•\»    ivady    to    adopt    any    sentiments,    or    pursue   any 

course  of  cor  and   criminal,  provided 

only,  that  it  t«-   popular.      In  <••.  .   liis  first 

qur>tion   jvi    \\liit    will   my   companions,    what   will    the 

20  world  think  and  say  of  me,  if  1  adopt  this,  or  th%t  course 
of  conduct  ?      Duty,    the    eternal    lav.  ;tude,   are 

not  thought  of.  Custom,  fashion,  popular  favor;  • 
are  tin-  things,  that  till  his  entire  usion,  and  <i 
every  question  of  ..pinion  and  duty.  Su«*h  a  man  can 

25  ne\  integrity,   and    n«>   in- 

t    mind,   •  tude. 

!!••  i-  at   th--  in-  '  ry  casual  impulse,  and  change 

of  popular  opinion,   an  •   no   more  toll   wK 

h«-  will  ]><•  riLjht  or  wronvr   t  pr«-- 

30  diet  the  con  •<•  what  si  clouds 

will  then  assir 

And  wli.r  •  ik  and 

foolish  n  il   the  end 

of  thus  acting  in  cowpltan-  :~tom  in 

35  to  one's  own  convictions  of  d«(v  "      It  is  to  lose  the  e«- 


Ex.  62,  63.]  EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  193 

teem  and  respect  of  the  very  man  whom  you  thus  attempt 
to  please.  Your  defect  of  principle  and  hollow-hearted- 
ness  are  easily  perceived ;  and  though  the  persons  to 
whom  you  thus  sacrifice  your  conscience,  may  affect  to 

40  commend  your  complaisance,  you  may  be  assured,  that, 
inwardly,  they  despise  you  for  it.  Young  men  can  hardly 
commit  a  greater  mistake,  than  to  think  of  gaining  the 
esteem  of  others,  by  yielding  to  their  wishes,  contrary  to 
their  own  sense  of  duty.  Such  conduct  is  always  morally 

45  wrong,  and  rarely  fails  to  deprive  one  both  of  self-respect, 
and  of  the  respect  of  others. 


EXERCISE   63. 
Christian  Integrity. — HAWKS. 

It  is  very  common,  I  know,  for  young  men  just  com- 
mencing business,  to  imagine  that,  if  they  would  advance 
their  secular  interests,  they  must  not  be  very  scrupulous 
in  binding  themselves  down  to  the  strict  rules  of  recti- 
5  tude.  They  must  conform  to  custom ;  and  if  in  buying 
and  selling  they  sometimes  say  the  things  that  are  not 
true,  and  do  the  things  that  are  not  honest ;  why,  their 
neighbors  do  the  same ;  and,  verily,  there  is  no  getting 
along  without  it.  There  is  so  much  competition  and 

10  rivalry,  that  to  be  strictly  honest,  and  yet  succeed  in  busi- 
ness, is  out  of  the  question. 

Now  if  it  were  indeed  so,  I  would  say  to  a  young  man ; 
Then  quit  your  business.  Better  dig,  and  beg  too,  than 
to  tamper  with  conscience,  sin  against  God,  and  lose  your 

15  soul. 

But  is  it  so  ? — is  it  necessary  in  order  to  succeed  in 
business,  that  you  should  adopt  a  standard  of  morals, 
more  lax  and  pliable,  than  the  one  placed  before  you  in 
the  Bible  ?  Perhaps,  for  a  time,  a  rigid  adherence  to 

20  rectitude  might  bear  hard  upon  you ;  but  how  would  it 
be  in  the  end  ?  Possibly,  your  neighbor,  by  being  less 
scrupulous  than  yourself,  may  invent  a  more  expeditious 
way  of  acquiring  a  fortune.  If  he  is  willing  to  violate 
the  dictates  of  conscience  ;  to  lie,  and  cheat,  and  tram- 

25  pie  on  the  rules  of  justice  and  honesty,  he  may,  indeed, 
get  the  start  of  you,  and  rise  suddenly  to  wealth  and 
distinction.     But  would  you  envy  him  his  riches,  or  be 
9 


194  KXKRnaiw. — PART  n.  [Ex.  63,  64. 

willing  to  place  yourself  in  his  situation  ?   Sudden  wealth, 
especially  when  obtained  by  dishonest  means,  rarely  fails 

30  of  bringing  with  it  sudden  ruin.  Those  who  acquire 
it,  are  of  course  beggared  in  their  morals,  and  are  often, 
very  soon,  beggared  in  property.  Their  riches  are  cor- 
rupted ;  and  while  they  bring  the  curse  of  Ood  on  their 
immediate  possessors,  they  usually  entail  misery  and  ruin 

35  upon  their  lain; 

If  it  be  admitted,  then,  that  strict  integrity  is  not  al- 
ways the  shortest  way  to  success ;  is  it  not  the  surest, 
the  happiest,  and  the  best  ?  A  young  man  of  thorough 
integrity  may,  it  is  true,  find  it  difficult,  in  the  midst  of 

40  dishonest  competitors  and  rivals,  to  start  in  his  business 
or  profession  ;  but  how  long,  ere  he  will  surmount  every 
difficulty ;  draw  around  him  patrons  and  friends,  and 
rise  in  the  confidence  and  support  of  all  who  know 
him? 

45  What  if,  in  pursuing  this  course,  you  should  not,  at  the 
close  of  life,  have  so  much  money  by  a  few  hundred  dol- 
lars ?  Will  not  a  fair  character,  an  approving  conscience, 
and  an  approving  Ood,  be  an  abundant  compensation  for 
this  little  deficiency  of  pelf? 

50  Oh,  there  is  an  hour  coming,  when  one  whisper  of  an 
approving  mind,  one  smile  of  an  approving  God,  will  be 
accounted  of  more  value  than  the  wealth  of  a  thousand 
worlds  like  this.  In  that  hour,  my  youn^  friends,  nothing 
will  sustain  you,  but  the  consciousness  of  having  been 

55  governed  in  life  by  worthy  and  good  principles. 


EXERCISE  64. 
Watch. — J.  MASON  GOOD. 

1  Life  is  a  sea, — how  fair  its  t 

How  smooth  its  dimpling  waters'  pace, 

Its  canopy  how  pure  f 
Hut  rocks  below,  and  ttmptstt  sleep 
Insidious,  o'er  the  glassy  deep, 

Nor  leave  an  hour  secure. 

2  Life  is  a  wilderness, — beset 

With  tangling  thorns,  and  treach'rons  net, 
And  prowl  d  by  beasts  of  prey. 


El     64.}  EXERCISES. PART    II.  195 

One  path  alone  conducts  aright, 
One  narrow  path,  with  little  light ; 
A  thousand  lead  astray. 

3  Life  is  a  warfare, — and  alike 
Prepared  to  parley,  or  to  strike, 

The  practiced  foe  draws  nigh. 
0,  hold  no  truce  !  less  dangerous  far 
To  stand,  and  all  his  phalanx  dare, 

Than  trust  his  specious  lie. 

4  Whate'er  its  form,  whate'er  its  flow, 
While  life  is  lent  to  man  below, 

One  duty  stands  confest, — 
To  watch  incessant,  firm  of  mind, 
And  watch  where'er  the  post  assign'd, 

And  leave  to  God  the  rest. 

5  'Twas  while  they  watch'd,  the  shepherd  swains 
'  Heard  angels  strike  to  angel-strains 

The  song  of  heavenly  love : ' 
Blest  harmony  !  that  far  excels 
All  music  else  on  earth  that  dwells, 

Or  e'er  was  tuned  above. 

6  'Twas  while  they  watch'd,  the  sages  traced 
The  star  that  every  star  effaced 

With  new  and  nobler  shine  : 
They  follow'd,  and  it  led  the  way 
To  where  the  infant  Savior  lay,  •* 

And  gave  them  light  divine. 

7  'Twas  while  they  watch'd,  with  lamp  in  hand, 
And  oil  well  stored,  the  virgin  band 

The  bridal  pomp  descried  ; 
They  join'd  it, — and  the  heavenly  gate, 
That  oped  to  them  its  glorious  state, 

Was  closed  on  all  beside. 

8  Watch  !  watch  and  pray  !  in  suffering  hour 
Thus  He  exclaim'd  who  felt  its  power, 

And  triumph'd  hi  the  strife. 
Victor  of  Death  !  thy  voice  I  hear : 
Fain  would  I  watch  with  holy  fear, 
Would  watch  and  pray  through  life's  career, 

And  only  cease  with  life. 


196  EXERCISES PART    II.  [Ex.  05. 

•'.5. 
New  Social  Order  in  America. — DOUGLAS. 

America  is  to  modern  Europe,  what  its  western  colo- 
nies were  to  Greece,  the  land  of  aspirations  and  dreams, 
the  country  of  daring  enterprise,  and  the  asylum  of  mis- 
fortune, which  receives  alike  the  exile  and  the  adventurer, 
5  the  discontented  and  the  aspiring,  and  promises  to  all  a 
freer  life,  and  a  fresher  nature. 

The  European  emigrant  might  believe  himself  as  one 
transported  to  a  new  world,  governed  by  new  laws,  and 
finds  himself  at  once  raised  in  the  scale  of  being — the 

10  pauper  is  maintained  by  his  own  labor,  the  hired  la- 
borer works  on  his  own  account,  and  the  tenant  is 
changed  into  a  proprietor,  while  the  depressed  vassal 
of  the  old  continent  becomes  co-legislator,  and  co-ruler 
in  a  government  where  all  power  is  from  the  people, 

15  and  in  the  people,  and  for  the  people.  The  world  has 
not  witnessed  an  emigration  like  that  taking  place  to 
America;  so  extensive  in  its  range,  so  immeasurable 
in  its  consequences,  since  the  dispersion  of  mankind ; 
hordes  of  emigrants  are  continually  swarming  off,  as 

20  ceaseless  in  their  passage,  and  crowded,  and   unreturn- 

ing,  as  the  travelers  to  eternity.     Even  those  who  are 

forced  to  remain  behind,  feel  a  melancholy  restlessness, 

like  a  bird  whose  wing  is  crippled,  at  the  season  of  mi- 

>*  gration,  and  look  forward  to  America,  as  to  the  land  of 

25  the  departed,  where  every  one  has  some  near  relative,  or 

dear  friend  gone  before  him      A  voice  like  that  heard 

before  the  final  ruin  of  Jerusalem,  seems  to  whisper  to 

those  who  have  ears  to  hear,  "  Let  us  depart  hence." 

Every  change  in  America   has   occasioned  a  corres- 

30  pondent  change  in  Europe ;  the  discovery  of  it  over- 
turned the  systems  of  the  ancients,  and  gave  a  new  face 
to  adventure  and  to  knowledge ;  the  opening  of  its  mines 
produced  a  revolution  in  property ;  and  the  independ- 
ence of  the  United  States  overturned  the  monarchy  of 

85  France,  and  set  fire  to  a  train  which  has  not  yet  fully 
exploded.  In  every  thing,  its  progress  is  interwoven 
with  the  fates  of  Europe.  At  every  expansion  of  Ameri- 
can influence,  the  older  countries  are  destined  to  un- 
dergo new  change*,  nnd  to  receive  a  second  character 


Ex.  65,  66.]          EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  197 

40  from  the  colonies  which  they  have  planted,  whose  great- 
ness is  on  so  much  larger  a  scale  than  that  of  the  parent 
countries,  and  which  will  exhibit  those  improvements 
which  exist  in  miniature  in  Europe,  unfettered  by  ancient 
prejudices,  and  dilated  over  another  continent. 


EXERCISE   66.  \ 

Voluntary  Association. — DOUGLAS. 

A  new  influence  is  arising,  which  is  sufficiently  able 
to  supply  the  deficiencies  of  Governments,  in  attaining 
ends  which  they  cannot  reach,  and  in  affording  aids 
over  which  they  have  no  control — the  power  of  voluntary 
5  association.  There  is  no  object  to  which  this  power 
cannot  adapt  itself;  no  resources  which* it  may  not  ul- 
timately command  ;  and  a  few  individuals,  if  the  public 
mind  is  gradually  prepared  to  favor  them,  can  lay  the 
foundations  of  undertakings  which  would  have  baffled 

10  the  might  of  those  who  reared  the  pyramids;  and  the 
few  who  can  divine  the  tendency  of  the  age  before  it  is 
obvious  to  others,  and  perceive  in  which  direction  the 
tide  of  public  opinion  is  setting,  may  avail  themselves 
of  the  current,  and  concentrate  every  breath  that  is  fa- 

15  vorable  to  their  course.  The  exertions  of  a  scanty 
number  of  individuals  may  swell  into  the  resources  of  a 
large  party,  which,  collecting  at  last  all  the  national  en- 
ergies unto  its  aid,  and  availing  itself  of  the  human  sym- 
pathies that  are  in  its  favor,  may  make  the  field  of  its 

20  labor  and  its  triumph  as  wide  as  humanity  itself.  The 
elements  being  favorably  disposed,  a  speck  of  cloud  col- 
lects vapors  from  the  four  winds  which  overshadow  the 
heavens ;  and  all  the  varying  and  conflicting  events  of 
life,  and  the  no  less  jarring  and  discordant  passions  of  the 

25  human  breast,  when  once  the  channel  is  sufficiently  deep- 
ened, will  rush  into  one  accelerating  torrent,  and  be  borne 
towards  their  destined  end.  The  power  of  voluntary 
association,  though  scarcely  tried  as  yet,  is  of  largest 
promise  for  the  future  ;  and  when  extended  upon  a  great 

30  scale,  is  the  influence  most  removed  from  the  shock  of 
accidents  and  the  decay  of  earthly  things,  renewing  its 
youth  with  renewed  generations,  and  becoming  immortal 
through  the  perpetuity  of  the  kind. 


198  PAHT  ii.  [Ex.  M,  87. 

The  favorable  result  of  all  undertakings  depend*  upon 

36  the  previous  state  and  preparation  of  the  world,  BO  less 
than  the  vegetation  of  the  seed  does  upon  the  soil  into 
which  it  is  oast ;  those  who  have  proceeded  farthest  in 
their  attempts,  and  gained  the  point  at  which  they  aimed, 
had  the  stream  in  their  favor,  and  were  more  indebted 

40  to  the  strength  of  the  current  than  to  their  own  individual 
efforts ;  their  superiority  to  others  consisted  chiefly  in 
their  superior  discernment;  and  they  seemed  to  lead 
their  contemporaries,  merely  because  they  themselves 
were  moot  led  by  the  spirit  of  the  age,  and  took  a  favor- 

45  able  situation  for  being  borne  forward  by  the  tide,  which 
they  had  the  sagacity  to  see  was  upon  the  turn.  The 
Greeks  would  have  conquered  the  Persians  without  Alex- 
ander ;  the  Romans  would  have  been  enslaved  had  Caesar 
never  been  born,  and  the  Arabians  would  have  POM  de- 

50  ceived  by  other  impostors  had  Mahomet  never  professed 
himself  a  prophet. 


EXERCISE  67. 
Bible  Societies — DOUGLAS. 

Modem  writers  have  discovered  that  words  are  more 
plentiful  than  thoughts  ;  and  that  therefore  the  true  econo- 
my of  writing  consists  in  being  sparing  of  the  latter,  and 
profuse  of  the  former ;  the  reports  of  different  societies 
6  carry  this  even  too  far,  and  one  may  rend  through  a  long 
report,  and  reach  the  conclusion  \vithout  meeting  a  single 
new  fact,  or  new  observation  by  the  way.  This  ought 
to  be  amended,  and  a  series  of  publications  which  would 
extend  the  knowledge,  and  deepen  the  interest  which 

10  the  subscribers  take  in  the  progress  of  religion,  are 
strongly  required,  before  that  interest  can  become  more 
general  and  abiding.  Witi  ts  tin-  Bible 

Society  continues  the  most  perfect  in.>titutn>n  <>f  its  kind, 
and  the  finest  example  of  the  power  of  \<>hintary  asoocia- 

16  tion.  It  has  merited  the  thanks  of  its  bitterest  ene- 
mies as  well  as  of  its  warmest  friends ;  for,  while  it  has 
done  religion  one  service,  by  uniting  all  its  friends  in 
one  great  cause,  it  has  done  it  a  second  service,  by  unit- 
ing all  its  eoemiea,  however  hostile  to  each  other, 

20  against  it ;  thus   ranging  each  aide  front  to  front,  and 


FiX.  67,  68.]  EXERCISES. PAET    II. 

preparing  them  for  one  decisive  and  final  struggle.  It 
leaves  every  one  without  excuse,  who  does  not  co-operate 
with  it ;  it  combines  all  classes  and  all  creeds,  the  poor 
may  contribute  their  mite,  and  the  rich  may  pour  in 

25  their  abundance ;  and  those  who  build  precious  things, 
and  those  who  heap  up  stubble  upon  the  foundation  of 
the  Scriptures,  have  here  one  point  of  agreement  in  the 
foundation  for  which  they  both  earnestly  contend.  It 
has  done  more^good  than  all  the  theological  discussions 

30  for  the  last  hundred  years;  and  though  it  has  confuted 
no  heresy,  it  has  done  still  better,  for  it  has  made  many 
be  neglected  and  forgotten.  It  oversteps  the  boundaries 
of  kingdoms,  and  the  separation  of  national  jealousies, 
and  presents  a  field  wide  enough  for  men  of  all  nations 

35  and  languages  to  enter,  without  conflicting  or  jarring  with 
each  other ;  its  field  is  truly  the  world ;  it  embraces  di- 
rectly or  indirectly,  all  the  interests  of  humanity ;  and  it 
is  ever  profusely  distributing  the  benefits  of  time,  while 
its  ultimate  results  are  lost  in  the  glories  of  eternity. 


EXERCISE  68. 
Christ's  Entry  into  Jerusalem. — CUNNINGHAM. 

1  From  Olivet's  sequester'd  seats, 

What  sounds  of  transport  spread  ? 
What  concourse  moves  through  Salem's  streets 

To  Zion's  holy  head  ? 
Behold  him  there  in  lowliest  guise  ! 

The  Savior  of  mankind ! 
Triumphal  shouts  before  him  rise, 

And  shouts  reply  behind  ! 
And  "  strike,"  they  cry,  your  loudest  string ; 
He  comes  !     Hosanna  to  our  King  !" 

2  He  came  to  earth :  from  eldest  years, 

A  long  and  bright  array, 
Of  Prophet-bards  and  Patriarch-seers, 

Proclaim'd  the  glorious  day  : 
The  light  of  heaven  in  every  breast, 

Its  fire  on  every  lip, 
-  In  tuneful  chorus  on  they  press'd, 

A  goodly  fellowship : 


KXtKClBEd.—  rAKT    II.  [Ex.  06,    09. 


And  on  the  pealing  anthem  ran, 
•  Hotanna  to  the  Son  of  Man  !" 

3  He  came  to  earth  :  tlin.u^h  life  he  pass'd 

A  man  of  griefs  :  and,  lo, 
A  noble  army  following  fast 

His  track  of  pain  and  woe: 
All  deck'd  with  palms,  and  strangely  bright, 

That  suffering  host  appears  ; 
And  stainless  are  their  robes  of  white, 

Though  steep'd  in  Wood  and  tears  ; 
And  sweet  their  martyr-anthem  flows, 
"  Hosanna  to  the  Man  of  Woes  !" 

4  From  ages  past  descends  the  lay, 

To  ages  yet  to  be,  — 
Till  far  its  echoes  roll  away 

Into  eternity. 
But  0  !  while  saints  and  angels  high, 

Thy  final  triumph  share, 
Amidst  thy  followers,  Lord,  would  I, 

Though  last  and  meanest  there, 
Receive  a  place,  and  joyful  raise 
A  loud  Hosanna  to  thy  praise  ! 


i:\i;urisi:  69. 
Evening  Hymn. — MONTHLY  VISITOR. 

1  Departing  day  fades  in  the  west, 

The  busy  world  is  still  ; 
Be  human  passion  hush'd  to  rest, 
Be  tranquil,  human  will. 

2  Father  in  Heaven,  to  thee  I  bend, 

To  thee  I  lift  my  prayer ; 
Vouchsafe,  Divine,  Almighty  Friend, 
Thy  suppliant's  voice  to  bear. 

3  If  lured  by  pleasure's  specious  wiles, 

By  shadowy  hopes  or  fears, 
If  earthly  joys  have  waken'd  smiles, 
Or  earthly  sorrows,  tears ; 

4  If  fall'n  from  Thee,  and  Thy  command, 

(And  fallen  I  must  appear,) 


Ex.  69,  70.]  EXERCISES. PART    If.  201 

Before  Thee,  Lord,  thy  creature  stands, 
A  suppliant  sincere. 

5  Oh,  be  this  day's  offence  forgiven, 
This  night  with  slumbers  blest ; 
And  pious  trust  in  pardoning  Heaven, 
The  pillow  of  my  rest. 


EXERCISE  70. 
Universal  Peace. — CHALMERS. 

The  first  great  obstacle  to  the  extinction  of  war,  is 
the  way  in  which  the  heart  of  man  is  carried  off  from 
its  barbarities  and  its  horrors,  by  the  splendor  of  its 
deceitful  accompaniments.  There  is  a  feeling  of  the 
5  sublime  in  contemplating  the  shock  of  armies,  just  as 
there  is  in  contemplating  the  devouring  energy  of  a  tem- 
pest ;  and  this  so  elevates  and  engrosses  the  whole  man, 
that  his  eye  is  blind  to  the  tears  of  bereaved  parents, 
and  his  ear  is  deaf  to  the  piteous  moan  of  the  dying,  and 

10  the  shriek  of  their  desolated  families.  There  is  a  grace- 
fulness in  the  picture  of  a  youthful  warrior,  burning  for 
distinction  on  the  field,  and  lured  by  this  generous  aspi- 
ration to  the  deepest  of  the  animated  throng,  where,  in 
the  fell  work  of  death,  the  opposing  sons  of  valor  strug- 

15  gle  for  a  remembrance  and  a  name  ;  and  this  side  of  the 
picture  is  so  much  the  exclusive  object  of  our  regard,  as 
to  disguise  from  our  view  the  mangled  carcasses  of  the 
fallen,  and  the  writhing  agonies  of  the  hundreds  and  the 
hundreds  more,  who  have  been  laid  on  the  cold  ground, 

20  where  they  are  left  to  languish  and  to  die.  There  no 
eye  pities  them.  No  sister  is  there  to  weep  over  them. 
There  no  gentle  hand  is  present  to  ease  the  dying  pos- 
ture, or  bind  up  the  wounds,  which,  in  the  maddening, 
fury  of  the  combat,  have  been  given  and  received,  by  the 

25  children  of  one  common  Father.  There  death  spreads 
its  pale  ensigns  over  every  countenance,  and  when  night 
comes  on,  and  darkness  is  around  them,  how  many  a  de- 
spairing wretch  must  take  up  with  the  bloody  field  as  the 
untended  bed  of  his  last  sufferings,  without  one  friend  to 

30  bear  the  message  of  tenderness  to  his  distant  home,  with- 
out one  companion  to  close  his  eyes. 

I  avow  it.     On  every  side  of  me  I  see  causes  at  work 
9* 


r..-<. — PAKT  11.  [Kx    70.  71. 


which  go  to  spread  a  most  delusive  coloring  over  war, 
and  to  remove  its  shocking  barbarities  i"  tin.-  back-ground 

35  of  our  contemplations  altogether.  1  >• .  it  in  tin-  history, 
which  tells  me  of  the  superb  appearance  »t  the  troops,  and 
the  brilliancy  of  their  successive  charges.  I  see  u  in  the 
poetry,  which  lends  the  magi*  "i  its  numbers  to  the  nar- 
rative of  blood,  and  transports  its  many  admirers  ;  as  by 

40  its  images,  and  its  figures,  and  its  nodding  plumes  of 
chivalry,  it  throws  its  treacherous  embellishments  over 
a  scene  of  legalized  slaughter.  1  see  it  in  the  music, 
which  represents  the  progress  of  the  battle  ;  and  where, 
after  being  inspired  by  the  trumpet-notes  of  preparation, 

45  the  whole  beauty  and  tenderness  of  ;i  drawing room  are 
seen  to  bead  over  the  sentimental  entertainment  ;  nor 
do  I  hear  the  utterance  of  a  single  sigh  to  interrupt  the 
death-tones  of  the  thickening  contest,  and  the  moans  of 
the  wounded  men,  .is  they  fade  away  upon  the  ear,  and 

50  sink  into  lifeless  silence.  All,  all  goes  to  prove  what 
strange  and  half-sighted  creatures  we  are.  Were  it  not 
so,  war  could  never  have  been  seen  in  any  other -aspect 
than  that  of  unrninglcd  hateful  m->s ;  and  I  can  look  to 
nothing  but  to  the  progress  of  Christian  sentiment  upon 

55  earth,  to  arrest  the  strong  current  of  its  popular  and  pre- 
vailing partiality  for  war.  Then  only  will  an  imperious 
sense  of  duty  lay  the  check  of  severe  principle,  on  all 
the  subordinate  tastes  and  faculties  of  our  nature.  Then 
will  glory  be  reduced  to  its  right  estimate,  and  the  wake. 

60  ful  benevolence  of  the  Gospel,  chafing  away  even*  spell, 
will  he  turned   by  the  treachery  of  no  delusion  whatever, 
from  its  sublime  enterprises  for  the  good  of  the  sp- 
Then    th.  :    truth   and    ijuirtncss    will   be  ushered 

into    the    world,   and    \?ar — cruel,    atrocious,    unrelenting 

ii,  will  be  stripped  of  its  many  and  its  hewilden: 
filiations 


I:\KKCISI-:  71. 

The  Elder's  Death  Bed.— PROF.  Wiusov.— 

,    I. 

Fur  six  years'  Sabbaths  I    i  ;lie  KI.WCK  in  las 

accustomed   place  beneath   the   pulpit — and,  with  a  sort 
of  solemn  fear,  had   looked  on   his  steadfast  «ountenance 


Ex.  71.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  203 

during  sermon,  psalm,  and  prayer.  On  returning  to  the 
5  scenes  of  my  infancy,  I  met  the  Pastor,  going  to  pray  by 
his  death-bed — and,  with  the  privilege  which  nature  gives 
us  to  behold,  even  in  their  last  extremity,  the  loving  and 
beloved,  I  turned  to  accompany  him  to  the  house  of  sor- 
row, of  resignation,  and  of  death. 

10  And  now,  for  the  first  time,  I  observed,  walking  close 
to  the  feet  of  his  horse,  a  little  boy  about  ten  years  of 
age,  who  kept  frequently  looking  up  in  the  Pastor's  face, 
with  his  blue  eyes  bathed  in  tears.  A  changeful  ex- 
pression of  grief,  hope,  and  despair,  made  almost  pale, 

15  cheeks,  which  otherwise  were  blooming  in  health  and 
beauty ; — and  I  recognized,  in  the  small  features  and 
smooth  forehead  of  childhood,  a  resemblance  to  the  aged 
man  whom  we  understood  was  now  lying  on  his  death- 
bed. "  They  had  to  send  his  grandson  for  me  through 

20  the  snow,  mere  child  as  he  is,"  said  the  Minister,  look- 
ing tenderly  on  the  boy ;  "  but  love  makes  the  young 
heart  bold — and  there  is  One  who  tempers  the  wind  to- 
the  shorn  lamb." 

As  we  slowly  approached  the  cottage;  through  a  deep 

25  snow-drift,  which  the  distress  within  had  prevented  the 
inmates  from  removing,  we  saw,  peeping  out  from  the 
door,  brothers  and  sisters  of  our  little  guide,  who  quickly 
disappeared  ;  and  then  their  mother  showed  herself  in 
their  stead,  expressing,  by  her  raised  eyes,  and  arms 

SO  folded  across  her  breast,  how  thankful  she  was  to  see, 
at  last,  the  Pastor,  beloved  in  joy,  and  trusted  in  trou- 
ble. 

A  few  words  sufficed  to  say  who  was  the  stranger — 
and  the  dying  man,  blessing  me  by  name,  held  out  to  me 

35  his  cold,  shriveled  hand  in  token  of  recognition.  I  took 
mv  seat  at  a  small  distance  from  the  bedside,  and  left  a 
closer  station  for  those  who  were  more  dear. 

"  If  the  storm  do  not  abate,"  said  the  sick  man,  after  a 
pause,  "it  will  be  hard  for  my  friends  to  carry  me  over 

40  the  drifts  to  the  kirk-yard."  This  sudden  approach  to 
the  grave,  struck,  as  with  a  bar  of  ice,  the  heart  of  the 
loving  boy — and,  with  a  long  deep  sigh,  he  fell  down, 
with  his  face  like  ashes,  on  the  bed,  while  the  old  man's 
palsied  right  hand  had  just  strength  to  lay  itself  upon 

45  his  head. 

"  God  has  been  gracious  to  me  a  sinner,"  said  the 


204  MBHCI8KS. FA»T  II.  [Ex    71. 

dying  man.  "  During  thirty  years  that  I  have  been  an 
elder  in  your  kirk,  never  have  I  misled  sitting  there  one 
Subbath.  When  the  mother  of  my  children  was  taken 

50  from  me — it  was  on  a  Tn-  died — and  on  a  Sat- 

urday she  was  buried.  We  blood  together  when  nu 
Alice  was  let  down  into  the  nan»w  hou&e  made  for  all 
living.  On  the  Sabbath  1  joined  in  the  public  worship 
of  God — she  commanded  me  to  do  so  the  night  before 

65  she  went  away.     I  could  not  join  in  tin-  psalm  tha 

bath,  for  her  voice  was  not  in  the  throng. — Her  grave 
was  covered  up,  and  grass  and  flowers  grew  there." 

The  old  man    ceased  speaking — and   his   grandchild, 
now  able  to  endure  the  scene, — for  strong  passion  it  its 

60  own  support, — glided  softly  to  a  little  table,  and  bringing 
a  cup  in  which  a  cordial  had  Ix-en  mixed,  held  it  in  his 
small,  soft  hands  to  his  grandfather's  lips.  He  drank, 
and  then  said,  "  Come  closer  to  me,  Jamie,  and  kiss  me 
for  thine  own  and  thy  father's  sake  ;"  and  as  the  child 

65  fondly  pressed  his  rosy  lips  on  those  of  his  grandfather, 
so  white  and  withered,  the  tears  fell  over  all  the  old 
man's  face,  and  then  trickled  down  on  the  golden  head  of 
the  child,  sobbing  in  his  bosom. 

"Jamie,  thy  own   father  has  forgotten  thee  in  thy  in- 

70  fancy,  and  me  in  my  old  a^e  ;  hut,  Jamie,  forget  not  tkou, 
thy  father,  nor  thy  mother  ;  for  that,  thou  knowest  and 
feelest,  is  the  commandment  of  God." 

The  broken-hearted  boy  could  give  no  reply.     He  had 
gradually  stolen  closer  and  closer  unto  the  loving  old 

75  man,  and  now  was  lying,  worn  out  with  sorrow,  drenched 
and  dissolved  in  tears,  in  his  grandfather's  bosom.  His 
mother  had  sunk  down  on  her  knees,  and  bid  her  face 
with  her  hand.  "  Oh  !  if  my  husband  knew  but  of  this 
— he  would  never,  never  desert  his  dying  father !"  And 

80  I  now  knew  that  the  Elder  was  praying  on  his  death-bed 
for  a  disobedient  and  wicked  son. 

PART  II. 

At  this  affecting  time  the  Minister  took  the  Family 
Bible  on  his  knees,  and  said,  "  Let  us  sing  to  the  praise 
of  God,  part  of  the  fifteenth  Psalm."  Ere  the  Psalm 
was  yet  over,  the  door  was  opened,  and  a  tall,  fine-look - 
5  ing  man  entered,  hut  with  a  lowering  and  dark  MKm 
tenancy,  seemingly  in  sorrow,  in  misery,  and  remorse. 


Ex.  71.]  EXKRC1SES. PART    II.  205 

Agitated,  confounded,  and  awe-struck  by  the  melancholy 
and  dirge-like  music,  he  sat  down  on  a  chair,  and  looked 
with  a  ghastly  face  towards  his  father's  death-bed. 

10  When  the  psalm  ceased,  the  Elder  said,  with  a  solemn 
voice,  "  My  son — thou  art  come  in  time  to  receive  thy 
father's  blessing.  May  the  remembrance  of  what  will 
happen  in  this  room,  before  the  morning  again  shines 
over  the  Hazel-glen,  win  thee  from  the  error  of  thy  ways  ! 

15  Thou  art  here  to  witness  the  mercy  of  thy  God  and  thy 
Savior,  whom  thou  hast  forgotten." 

The  Minister  looked,  if  not  with  a  stern,  yet  with  an 
upbraiding  countenance,  on  the  young  man,  who  had  not 
recovered  his  speech,  and  said,  "  William !  for  three 

20  years  past,  your  shadow  has  not  darkened  the  door  of 
the  house  of  God.  They  who  fear  not  the  thunder,  may 
tremble  at  the  still,  small  voice — now  is  the  hour  for  re- 
pentance— that  your  fatlier's  spirit  may  carry  up  to 
Heaven,  tidings  of  a  contrite  soul,  saved  from  the  com- 

25  pany  of  sinners  !" 

The  young  man,  with  much  effort,  advanced  to  the 
bedside,  and  at  last  found  voice  to  say,  "  Father — I  am 
not  without  the  affections  of  nature — and  I  hurried  home 
the  moment  I  heard  that  the  minister  had  been  seen 

30  riding  towards  our  house.  I  hope  that  you  will  yet  re- 
cover, and,  if  I  have  ever  made  you  unhappy,  I  ask  your 
forgiveness ; — for  though  I  may  not  think  as  you  do  on 
matters  of  religion,  I  have  a  human  heart.  Father !  I 
may  have  been  unkind,  but  I  am  not  cruel.  I  ask  your 

35  forgiveness." 

"  Come  near  to  me,  William  ;  kneel  down  by  the  bed- 
side, and  let  my  hand  feel  the  head  of  my  beloved  son — 
for  blindness  is  coming  fast  upon  me.  Thou  wert  my 
first  born,  and  thou  art  my  only  living  son.  All  thy 

40  brothers  and  sisters  are  lying  in  the  church-yard,  beside 
her  whose  sweet  face  thine  own,  William,  did  once  so 
much  resemble.  Long  wert  thou  the  joy,  the  pride  of 
my  soul, — aye,  too  much  the  pride,  for  there  was  not  in 
all  the  parish,  such  a  man,  such  a  son,  as  my  own  Will- 

45  iam.  If  thy  heart  has  since  been  changed,  God  may 
inspire  it  again  with  right  thoughts.  I  have  sorely 
wept  for  thee — aye,  William,  when  there  was  none  near 
me — even  as  David  wept  for  Absalom — for  thee,  my  son, 
ray  son  !" 


206  EXBtCltES. PART  II.  [F'x.  71- 

50  A  Ion*/,  deep  'jr»an.  was  the  only  reply;  hut  the  whole 
body  of  the  kneeling  man  was  convulsed  ;  and  it  was 
easy  to  see  lii*  suhYrii:.  utrition,  his  remorse,  and 

•  It-pair.     Tin-  Pastor  said,  with  a  sterner  voice,  and 
austerer  c..unt«-nance  th;in  were  natural  to  him,   "  Know 
•11  whose  hand  is  now  lyin^  on   \  our  rebellious  head? 
Hut    what    signifies    the    u>  him   who  has 

denied  f *'•*/,  the  Katlvr  of  us  all?"  "Oh  !  press  him  n..t 
too  hardly,"  said  hi<  w.-i-pin^  \\-ifi-.  coming  forward  from 
a  dark  corner  of  the  room,  where  sin-  tri«-d  to  conceal 
60  herself  in  grief,  fear,  and  shame.  "Span-.  «.h'  spare 
my  husband — he  has  ever  ln-.-n  kind  t»  me  ;"  and  with 
that  she  knelt  down  l>eside  him,  with  her  long,  soft,  white 
arms,  mournfully  and  affectionately  laid  across  his  ne.-k. 
"Go  lh«>u,  likewise,  my  sweet  little  Jamie."  said  the 
65  Elder,  " -40  even  out  of  my  bosom,  and  kn«-.-l  down 
beside  thy  father  and  thy  mother,  so  that  I  may 
you  all  at  once,  and  with  one  yearning  praver."  The 
child  did  as  the  solemn  voice  commanded,  and  knelt 
down,  somewhat  timidly,  by  his  father's  side;  nor  did 
70  the  unhappy  man  decline  encircling  with  his  arm,  the 
child  too  much  neglected,  but  still  dear  to  him  as  his 
own  blood,  in  spite  of  the  deadening  and  debasing  influ- 
ence of  infidelity. 

"  Put  the  Word  of  God  into  the  hands  of  my  son,  and 
7f>   let  him  read  aloud  to  his  riving  father  the  'JAth.  'Jh'th,  and 
•ith  chapter  of  tin-  Gospel  accord- 
ing to  Si.  John."     The  1'astor  went  up  to  the  kneetert, 
and,  with  a  voice  of  pity,  condolence,  and  pardon,  said, 
"Them    irnit  a    time    whe:i    none.    William,   could    read 
HO  the  Scriptures  l>etter  than  couldst   tf""i — can  it  he  that 
the    son    of  my    friend   hath    furynW'n    the   leMOTO  of  his 
youili  V"      lie    had    »">/    f-ir-^otten    them — there    WUB    no 
i  of  the   repentant  sinner  to   lift  un  his  eyes  from  tin- 
h''<!-;de.      Th?  sacred   stream  of  the  Gospel   had  worn   a 
M.'i   i-lrinii"!  in  hi-'    heart,  and    the  waters  were   a-^ain  flowing. 

•1  voice  lie  -aid.    '' J«-u<  said  unto  her, 
.erection    and    the    lift-:      \nd    whosoever   liveth, 
and    believeth    in   me,   shall    nev.-r    die.      /;>/itr<st    thoii 
this  ?      She  sairl  unto  him,   ">  1  helieve  thou  art 

90  the  Christ,  tho  Son  of  (Jod,  which  shoul.i  to  the 

:ld." 
"  That  is   not  an   unbeliever'*  voice,"  said   the    dyin •; 


Ex.  71,  72.]  EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  207 

man  triumphantly ;  "  nor,  William,  hast  thou  an  unbe  - 
liever's  heart.  Say  that  thou  lelievest  in  what  thou 
95  hast  now  read,  and  thy  father  will  die  happy  !"  "  I  do 
believe  ;  and  as  thou  forgivest  me,  so  may  I  be  forgiven 
by  my  Father  who  is  heaven."  The  Elder  seemed 
like  a  man  suddenly  inspired  with  a  new  life.  His  faded 
eyes  kindled — his  pale  cheeks  glowed — his  palsied 

100  hands  seemed  to  wax  strong — and  his  voice  was  clear 
as  that  of  manhood  in  its  prime.  (0)  Into  thy  hands, 
0  God !  I  commit  my  spirit ;" — and  so  saying,  he 
gently  sunk  back  on  his  pillow ;  and  I  thought  I  heard 
a  sigh. — There  was  then  a  long,  deep  silence,  and 

105  the  father,  the  mother,  and  the  child,  rose  from  their 
knees.  The  eyes  of  us  all  were  turned  towards  the 
white,  placid  face  of  the  figure  now  stretched  in  ever- 
lasting rest ;  and  without  lamentations,  save  the  silent 
lamentations  of  the  resigned  soul,  we  stood  around  the 

1 10  DEATH-BED  OF  THE  ELDER. 


. 

EXERCISE  72. 

Benevolence  of  God. — 'CHALMERS. 

It  is  saying  much  for  the  benevolence  of  God,  to  say, 
that  a  single  world,  or  a  single  system,  is  not  enough 
for  it — that  it  must  have  the  spread  of  a  mightier  region, 
on  which  it  may  pour  forth  a  tide  of  exuberancy  through- 
6  out  all  its  provinces — that,  as  far  as  our  vision  can  carry 
us,  it  has  strewed  immensity  with  the  floating  recepta- 
cles of  life,  and  has  stretched  over  each  of  them  the  gar- 
niture of  such  a  sky,  as  mantles  our  own  habitation — 
and  that,  even  from  distances  which  are  far  beyond  the 

10  reach  of  human  eye,  the  songs  of  gratitude  and  praise 
may  now  be  arising  to  the  one  God,  who  sits  surrounded 
by  the  regards  of  his  one  great  and  universal  family. 

Now  it  is  saying  much  for  the  benevolence  of  God,  to 
say,  that  it  sends  forth  these  wide  and  distant  emana- 

15  tions  over  the  surface  of  a  territory  so  ample — that  the 
world  we  inhabit,  lying  imbedded  as  it  does,  amidst  so 
much  surrounding  greatness,  shrinks  into  a  point  that 
to  the  universal  eye  might  appear  to  be  almost  imper- 
ceptible. But  does  it  not  add  to  the  power  and  to  the 

20  perfeetion  of  this  universal  eye,  that  at  the  very  moment 


K\I:K(  IHI-.<.  —  PART  n.          [Ex.  72,  73. 


it   is   taking  a  comprehensive  MIM.  \   of  tin-  vast,  it  can 

fasten  a  steady  and  undistracted  attention  on  each  mi- 

nute and   separate   portion  of  it  ;    that  at  the  very  mo- 

nicni  ii  i*  looking  at  all  «•  m  look  most  point- 

!'.v  ami  most  intelligently  to  each  of  them  ;   that  at  the 

•  v  moment   it   sweeps   the  tield  of  immensity,   it  can 

settle  all  the  earnestness  of  its  regards  upon  .•wry  dis- 

tinct handhreath    of    that   field;    that  at   the  very   mo- 

ment at  which  it  embraces  the  totality  of  existence,  it 

30  can  send  a  most  thorough   and   penetrating  insj 

into  each  of  its  details,  and  into  every  one  of  its  endless 
diversities?  You  cannot  fail  to  perceive  how  much  this 
adds  to  the  power  of  the  all  seeing  eye.  Tell  me,  then, 
if  it  do  not  add  as  much  perfection  to  the  benevolence 

35  of  God,  that  while  it  is  expatiating  over  the  vast  field 
of  created  things,  there  is  not  one  portion  of  the  field 
overlooked  by  it  ;  that  while  it  scatters  blessings  over 
the  whole  of  an  infinite  range,  it  causes  them  to  de- 
scend in  a  shower  of  plenty  on  ever}'  separate  habita- 

40  tion  ;  that  while  his  arm  is  underneath  and  round  about 
all  worlds,  he  enters  within  the  precincts  of  every  one 
of  them,  and  gives  a  care  and  a  tenderness  to  each  in- 
dividual of  their  teeming  population.  Oh!  does  not  the 
God,  who  is  said  to  le  lo\e,  shed  over  this  attribute 

45  of  his,  its  finest  illustration!  when,  while  he  sits  in  the 
highest  heaven,  and  pours  out  his  fullness  on  the  whole 
subordinate    domain   of    nature  and  of   ProvideoMjBhe 
bows  a  pitying  regard  on   the  very  humblest  of  his  chil 
dren,  and  sends  his  reviving  Spirit  into  e\ery  heart,  and 

60  cheers  by  his  presence  everv  home,  and  pro\idr>  for  the 

wants  of  everv  family,  and  watches  .  .  bed,  and 

listens   to   the   romplar  nd  while, 

In   his  wondrous  mind,  the  weight  of  universal   <;<»vem- 

",  oli!  i^   it   not   more  wondrous  and  more 

•ellent  still,  that  he  feels  for  every  sorrow,  and  has  on 

ear  open  to  every  prayer  '.' 


r.\ 

(if  the   /'/-.'//'•( XA-  f/tarluttt. — UoiiLKT  HAM.. 


ithout  the 
tv  of  n  moment's  immediate  preparation,  in  th 


Ex.  73.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  *    209 

the  deepest  tranquillity,  at  midnight  a  voice  was  heard 
in  the  palace,  not  of  singing  men,  and  singing  women, 
5  not  of  revelry  and  mirth,  but  the  cry,  "  Behold  the 
bridegroom  cometh  !"  The  mother,  in  the  bloom  of 
youth,  spared  just  long  enough  to  hear  the  tidings  of  her 
infant's  death,  almost  immediately,  as  if  summoned  by 
his  spirit,  follows  him  into  eternity.  "  It  is  a  night 

10  much  to  be  remembered."  Who  foretold  this  event ; 
who  conjectured  it ;  who  detected  at  a  distance  the  faint- 
est presage  of  its  approach,  which,  when  it  arrived, 
mocked  the  efforts  of  human  skill,  as  much  by  their  in- 
capacity to  prevent,  as  their  inability  to  foresee  it !  Un- 

15  moved  by  the  tears  of  conjugal  affection,  unawed  by 
the  presence  of  grandeur,  and  the  prerogatives  of  power, 
inexorable  death  hastened  to  execute  his  stern  com- 
mission, leaving  nothing  to  royalty  itself,  but  to  retire 
and  weep.  Who  can  fail  to  discern,  on  this  awful  oc- 

20  casion,  the  hand  of  Him  who  "  bringeth  the  princes  to 
nothing,  who  maketh  the  judges  of  the  earth  as  van- 
ity ;"  who  says,  "  They  shall  not  be  planted ;  yea,  they 
shall  not  be  sown ;  yea,  their  stock  shall  not  take  root 
in  the  earth ;"  and  he  "  shall  blow  upon  them,  and  they 

25  shall  wither,  and  the  whirlwind  shall  take  them  away  as 
stubble." 

But  is  it  now  any  subject  of  regret,  think  you,  to  this 
amiable  Princess  so  suddenly  removed,  "  that  her  sun 
went  down  while  it  was  yet  day,"  or  that,  prematurely 

30  snatched  from  prospects  the  most  brilliant  and  enchant- 
ing, she  was  compelled  to  close  her  eyes  so  soon  on  a 
world,  of  whose  grandeur  she  formed  so  conspicuous  a 
part  ?  No  !  in  the  full  fruition  of  eternal  joys,  for  which 
we  humbly  hope  Religion  prepared  her,  she  is  so  far 

35  from  looking  back  with  lingering  regret  on  what  she 
has  quitted,  that  she  is  surprised  it  had  the  power  of 
affecting  her  so  much ; — that  she  took  so  deep  an  in- 
terest in  the  scenes  of  this  shadowy  state  of  being,  while 
so  near  to  an  "  eternal  weight  of  glory  ;"  and,  as  far  as 

40  memory  may  be  supposed  to  contribute  to  her  happiness 
by  associating  the  present  with  the  past,  it  is  not  the 
recollection  of  her  illustrious  birth,  and  elevated  pros- 
pects, but  that  she  visited  the  abodes  of  the  poor,  and 
learned  to  weep  with  those  that  weep ;  that,  surrounded 

45  with  the  fascinations  of  pleasure,  she  was  not  inebriated 


210  BXEBCMBS. FART    II.  [El.  73,  74. 

by  its  charms  ;  that  the  resisted  the  strongest  tempta- 
tions to  pride,  preserved  her  cars  open  to  truth,  was  im- 
patient of  the  voice  of  flattery :  in  a  word,  that  she  sought 
and  cherished  the  inspirations  of  piety,  and  walked  humbly 

60  with  her  God. 

The  nation  has  certainly  not  been  wanting  in  the 
proper  expression  of  its  poignant  regret,  at  the  sudden 
removal  of  this  most  lamented  Princess,  nor  of  their 
sympathy  with  the  royal  family,  deprived  by  this  vi-it.t 

55  tion  of  its  brightest  ornament.  Sorrow  is  painted  in 
every  countenance,  the  pursuits  of  business  and  of  plea- 
sure have  been  suspended,  and  the  kingdom  is  covered 
with  the  signals  of  distress.  But  what,  my  friends,  (if 
it  were  lawful  to  indulge  such  a  thought,)  what  would 

60  be  the  funeral  obsequies  of  a  lott  *ml?  Where  shall 
we  find  tears  fit  to  be  wept  at  such  a  spectacle,  or,  could 
we  realize  the  calamity  in  all  its  extent,  what  tokens  of 
commiseration  and  concern  would  be  deemed  equal  to 
the  occasion  ?  Would  it  suffice  for  the  sun  to  veil  his 

•6  light,  and  the  moon  her  brightness  ;  to  cover  the  ocean 
with  mourning,  and  the  heavens  with  sackcloth— or, 
were  the  whole  fabric  of  nature  to  become  animated 
and  vocal,  would  it  be  possible  for  h«-r  t<>  utter  a  groan  too 
deep,  or  a  cry  too  piercing,  to  express  the  magnitude 

70  and  extent  of  such  a  catastrophe  ? 

i:\Kitrisi:  7i. 

Rf  mark-able  Preservation  from  Death  at  Sea. 

PHOK.  WILSON. 

You  have  often  asked  me  to  describe  to  you  on  paper 
aa  event  in  my  life,  which  at  th<-  HiMnncr  of  thirty  years, 
I  cannot  look  back  to  without  horror.  No  words  can 
give  an  adequate  image  of  the  miseries  I  suffered  daring 
6  that  fearful  night ;  but  I  shall  try  to  give  you  something 
Kke  a  faint  shadow  of  them,  th.tt  from  it  your  soul  may 
conceive  what  I  must  have  suffer 

I  was,  you  know,  on  my  voyage   back  to  my  native 
country,  after  an  absence  of  five  years  spent  in  uninvr- 
10  mittim;  toil,  in  ;,  :;tnd,  to  which  I  had  been  driv- 

i-n  hy  .1  singular  fatality  Our  ^"yitge  had  been  most 
cheerful  and  properous;  and,  on  Christmas  day,  we 
were  within  fifty  league  of  port.  Passengers  and  crew 


Ex.  74.]  tXERCISES. PART    II.  211 

were  all  in  the  highest  spirits,  and  the  ship  was  alive 

15  with  mirth  and  jollity. 

About  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  I  went  on  deck. 
The  ship  was  sailing  upon  a  wind,  at  the  rate  of  seven 
knots  an  hour,  and  there  was  a  wild  grandeur  in  the 
night.  A  strong  snow-storm  blew,  but  steadily,  and 

20  without  danger ;  and,  now  and  then,  when  the  strug- 
gling moonlight  overcame  the  sleety  and  misty  dark- 
ness, we  saw,  for  some  distance  round  us,  the  agitated 
sea  all  tumbling  with  foam.  There  were  no  shoals  to 
fear,  and  the  ship  kept  boldly  on  her  course,  close  reef- 

25  ed,  and  mistress  of  the  storm.     I  leaned  over  the  gun- 
wale, admiring  the  water  rushing  past   like  a  foaming 
cataract,  when,  by  some  unaccountable  accident,  I  lost 
my  balance,  and  in  an  instant  fell  overboard  into  the  sea. 
I  remember  a  convulsive  shuddering  all  over  my  body, 

30  and  a  hurried  leaping  of  my  heart,  as  I  felt  myself  about 
to  lose  hold  of  the  vessel,  and  afterwards  a  sensation  of 
the  most  icy  chillness,  from  immersion  into  the  waves,  but 
nothing  resembling  a  fall  or  precipitation.  When  below 
the  water,  I  think  that  a  momentary  belief  rushed  across 

35  my  mind,  that  the  ship  had  suddenly  sunk,  and  that  I 
was  but  one  of  a  perishing  crew.  I  imagined  that  I  felt 
a  hand  with  long  fingers  clutching  at  my  legs,  and  made 
violent  efforts  to  escape,  dragging  after  me,  as  I  thought, 
the  body  of  some  drowning  wretch.  On  rising  to  the 

40  surface,  I  recollected  in  a  moment  what  had  befallen 
me,  and  uttered  a  cry  of  horror,  which  is  in  my  ears  to 
this  day,  and  often  makes  me  shudder,  as  if  it  were  the 
mad  shriek  of  another  person '  in  extremity  of  perilous 
agony.  Often  have  I  dreamed  over  again  that  dire  mo- 

45  ment,  and  the  cry  I  utter  in  my  sleep  is  said  to  be  some- 
thing more  horrible  than  a  human  voice.  No  ship  was 
to  be  seen.  She  was  gone  forever.  The  little  happy 
world  to  which,  a  moment  before,  I  had  belonged,  had 
swept  by,  and  I  felt  that  God  had  flung  me  at  once  from 

50  the  heart  of  joy,  delight,  and  happiness,  into  the  utter- 
most abyss  of  mortal  misery  and  despair.  Yes!  I  felt 
that  the  Almighty  God  had  done  this, — that  there  was 
an  act,  a  fearful  act  of  Providence ;  and  miserable  worm 
that  I  was,  I  thought  that  the  act  was  cruel,  and  a  sort 

65  of  wild,  indefinite,  objectless  rage  and  wrath  assailed  me, 
and  took  for  awhile  the  place  of  that  first  shrieking  ter- 


213  «XE»CISES.— PART  11.  [Ex.  74. 

ror.  I  gnashed  my  teeth,  and  cursed  myself, — and* 
with  bitter  tears  and  yells,  blasphemed  the  name  of  God. 
It,  i>  trur.  ii. \  friend,  that  1  did  so.  God  forgave  that 

00  wickedness.  Tin-  He.  ing,  whom  1  then  cursed,  was,  in 
his  tender  mercy,  not  unmindful  of  me, — of  me,  a-  poor, 
blind,  miserable,  mistaken  worm.  But  the  waves  dash- 
ed on  me,  and  struck  me  on  the  face,  and  howled  at 
me;  and  the  winds  yelled,  and  the.  snow  beat  like  drift  - 

65  ing  sand  into  my  eyes. — and  the  .ship,  the  ihip  was 
gone,  and  there  was  I  left  to  struggle,  and  bullet,  and 
gasp,  and  sink,  and  perish ;  alone,  unseen,  and  unpitied 
by  man,  and,  as  I  thought  too,  by  the  everlasting  God. 
1  tried  to  penetrate  the  surrounding  darkness  \\uli  my 

70  glaring  eyes,  that  felt  leaping  from  their  sockets;  and 
saw,  as  if  by  miraculous  power,  to  a  great  distance 
through  the  night; — but  no  shiji, — nothing  but  white- 
•  crested  waves,  and  the  dismal  noise  of  thunder.  1  shout- 
ed, shrieked,  and  yelled,  that  I  might  be  heard  by  the 

75  crew,  till  my  voice  was  gone, — and  that  too,  when  I 
knew  that  there  were  none  to  hear  me.  At  last  I  be- 
came utterly  speechless,  and,  when  I  tried  to  call  aloud, 
there  was  nothing  but  a  silent  gasp  and  convulsion, — 
while  the  waves  came  upon  me  like  stunning  blows,  re- 

80  iterated,  and  drove  me  along,  like  a  log  of  wood,  or  a 
dead  animal. 

PART  II. 

All  this  time  I  was  not  conscious  of  any  act  of  swim- 
ming ;  but  I  soon  found  that  I  had  instinctively  been 
exerting  all  my  power  and  skill,  and  both  were  requisite 
to  keep  me  alive  in  the  tumultuous  wake  of  the  ship. 
5  Something  struck  me  harder  than  a  wave.  What  it 
was  I  knew  not ;  but  I  grasped  it  with  a  passionate  vio- 
lence, for  the  hope  of  salvation  came  suddenly  over  me, 
and  with  a  sudden  transition  from  despair,  1  felt  that  I 
•was  rescued.  1  had  the  same  thought  as  if  I  had  been 

10  suddenly  heaved  on  shore  by  a  wave.  The  crew  had 
thrown  overboard  every  thing  they  thought  could  afford 
me  the  slightest  chance  of  escape  from  death,  and  a 
hen-coop  had  drifted  towards  me.  At  once  all  the  sto- 
ries I  had  ever  read  of  mariners  miraculously  saved  at 

16  sea,  rushed  across  my  recollection.  I  had  an  object  to 
cling  to,  which  I  knew  would  enable  me  to  prolong  my 


Ex.  74.]  EXERCISES. PART  II.  213 

existence.  I  was  no  longer  helpless  on  the  cold,  welter- 
ing world  of  waters ;  and,  the  thought  that  my  friends 
were  thinking  of  me,  and  doing  all  they  could  for  me, 

20  gave  to  me  a  wonderful  courage.  I  may  yet  pass  the 
night  in  the  ship,  I  thought ;  and  I  looked  round  eagerly 
to  hear  the  rush  of  her  prow,  or  to  see  through  the  snow- 
drift the  gleaming  of  her  sails. 

This  was  but  a  momentary  gladness.     The  ship  I  knew 

25  could  not  be  far  off,  but,  for  any  good  she  could  do  me, 
she  might  have  been  in  the  heart  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean. 
Ere  she  could  have  altered  her  course,  I  must  have 
drifted  a  long  way  to  leewai'd  ;  and  in  that  dim  snowy 
night,  how  was  such  a  speck  to  be  seen  ?  I  saw  a  flash 

30  of  lightning,  and  then  there  was  thunder.  It  was  the 
ship  firing  a  gun,  to  let  me  know,  if  still  alive,  that  she 
was  somewhere  lying  to.  But  wherefore  ?  I  was  sepa- 
rated from  her  by  a  dire  necessity, — by  many  thousand 
fierce  waves,  that  would  not  let  my  shrieks  be  heard. 

35  Each  succeeding  gun  was  heard  fainter  and  fainter,  till 
at  last  I  cursed  the  sound,  that,  scarcely  heard  above 
the  hollow  rumbling  of  the  tempestuous  sea,  told  me, 
that  the  ship  was  farther  and  farther  off,  till  she  and  her 
heartless  crew  had  left  me  to  my  fate.  Why  did  they 

40  not  send  out  all  their  boats  to  row  round  and  round  all 
the  night  through,  for  the  sake  of  one  whom  they  pre- 
tended to  love  so  well  ?  I  blamed,  blessed,  and  cursed 
them  by  fits,  till  every  emotion  of  my  soul  was  exhausted, 
and  I  clung  in  sullen  despair  to  the  wretched  piece  of 

45  wood,  that  still  kept  me  from  eternity. 

Every  thing  was  now  seen  in  its  absolute,  dreadful 
reality.  I  was  a  Castaway — no  hope  of  rescue.  It  was 
broad  daylight,  and  the  storm  had  ceased ;  but  clouds 
lay  round  the  horizon,  and  no  land  was  to  be  seen. 

50  What  dreadful  clouds !  Some  black  as  pitch  and  charged 
with  thunder ;  others  like  cliffs  of  fire  ;  and  here  and 
there  all  streamered  over  with  blood.  It  was  indeed  a 
sullen,  wrathful,  and  despairing  sky.  The  sun  itself  was 
a  dull  brazen  orb,  cold,  dead,  and  beamless.  I  beheld 

65  three  ships  afar  off,  but  all  their  heads  were  turned 
away  from  me.  For  whole  hours  they  would  adhere 
motionless  to  the  sea,  while  I  drifted  away  from  them ; 
and  then  a  rushing  wind  would  spring  up,  and  carry 
them,  one  by  one,  into  the  darkness  of  the  stormy  dis- 


214  EXEBCUE8. TAET  II.  [El.  74,  75. 

CO  tance.  Many  birds  came  close  to  me,  as  if  to  flap  me 
with  their  large  spreading  wings,  screamed  round  and 
round  me,  and  then  flew  away  in  their  strength,  and 
beauty,  and  happiness. 

1   now  felt  myself  indi-rd  dying.     A  calm   came  over 

65  me.  1  prayed  devoutly  for  forgiveness  of  my  sins,  and 
for  all  my  friends  on  earth.  A  ringing  was  in  my  Mrs, 
and  I  remember  only  the  hollow  fluctuations  of  the  sea, 
with  which  1  seemed  to  be  l>!<  n<l«-tl.  and  a  sinking  down 
and  down  an  unfathomable  d.-ptli,  which  I  thought  was 

70  Death,  and  into  the  kingdom  oi  tin*  t-t<rnal  Future. 

I  awoke  from  insensibility  and  oblivion  with  a  hideous, 
racking  pain  in  my  head  and  loins,  and  in  a  place  of  utter 
darkness.  1  heard  a  voice  say,  "  Praise  the  Lord."  My 
agony  was  dreadful,  and  1  cncd  aloud.  Wan,  glimmer- 

75  ing,  melancholy  lights,  kept  moving  to  and  fro.  1  heard 
dismal  whisperings,  and  now  and  then  a  pale  silent  ghost 
glided  by.  A  hideous  din  was  over  head,  and  around 
me  the  tierce  dashing  of  the  waves.  Was  1  in  the  land 
of  spirits  ?  But,  why  strive  to  recount  the  mortal  pain 

80  of  my  recovery, — the  soul-humbling  gratitude  that  took 
possession  of  my  being  ?  I  was  lying  in  the  cabin  of  a 
ship,  and  kindly  tended  by  a  humane  and  skillful  man. 
I  had  been  picked  up  apparently  dead  and  cold.  The 
hand  of  God  was  there.  Adieu,  my  dear  friend.  It  is 

85  now  the  hour  of  rest,  and  I  hasten  to  fall  down  on  my 
knees  before  the  merciful  Being  who  took  pity  upon  me, 
and  who,  at  the  intercession  of  oar  Redeemer,  may,  I 
hope,  pardon  all  my  sins. 


EXERCISE  75. 
The  Bible  the  best  Classic. — GRUIKJC. 

To  the  Parent,  I  would  say,  your  offspring  are  the 
children  of  God.  On  you  they  depend  for  eduoation. 
God  has  commanded  you  to  train  them  betimes,  to  know 
and  to  serve,  to  love  and  to  enjoy  him.  The  paths  of 
5  business  are  equally  the  paths  of  temptation  and  duty. 
Religion  belongs  to  every  thought,  and  word,  and  deed. 
As  then  the  Bible  is  the  only  standard  of  duty,  why  do 
you  not  interweave  it  with  the  whole  scheme  of  secular 
i  ?  To  the  I  nt  true  tor,  1  would  say,  you 


Ex.  75,  76.]  EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  215 

10  in  the  place  of  Parent  and  Guardian.  Their  duties  are 
unquestionably  yours.  To  you  is  transferred,  not  only 
the  obligation  to  teach,  but  more  especially  the  selection 
of  appropriate  books,  and  the  regulation  of  the  order  and 
proportion  of  studies.  What  Parent  or  Guardian  has 

15  ever  interfered  with  your  plans?  How  entirely,  and 
with  what  a  cordial  confidence,  have  they  appointed  you 
to  think,  to  consult,  to  decide,  to  act  for  them  ?  Why 
then  have  you  excluded  the  Bible  of  those  very  Parents 
and  Guardians,  from  the  whole  scheme  for  the  educa- 

20  tion  of  their  children  and  wards  ?  To  the  Patriot,  I 
would  say,  Can  you  doubt,  that  to  the  Bible  your  coun- 
try owes  not  only  her  religious  liberty,  and  her  entire 
moral  condition,  but,  to  a  great  extent,  her  civil  and  po- 
litical rights,  her  science,  literature  and  arts?  The  Bi- 

25  ble  is  emphatically  the  book  of  truth  and  knowledge,  of 
freedom  and  happiness  to  your  country.  Children  you 
regard  as  public  property  ;  and  you  know,  that  they  will 
honor  and  serve  their  country  best,  the  more  they  are 
instructed  in  the  Scriptures,  and  imbued  with  their  spi- 

30  rit.  Why  then,  do  you  withhold  the  full  benefit  of  those 
sacred  oracles,  by  thus  proscribing  them,  in  every  scheme 
of  education  ?  To  the  Christian,  I  would  say,  you  ad- 
mit the  divinity  of  the  Scriptures,  their  absolute  author- 
ity, and  inestimable  worth.  You  concede,  that  they  are 

35  the  common  property  of  all ;  that  even  children  may 
profit  by  them,  since  they  are  so  simple  and  plain,  that 
the  wayfaring  man,  though  a  fool,  shall  not  err  therein. 
Why  then  do  you  not  give  them  this  lamp  of  life,  as  well 
as  the  lamp  of  knowledge  to  guide  them  daily,  with  har- 

40  monious  beams,  in  their  preparation  for  the  inseparable 
duties  and  business  of  life  ?  To  the  Scholar,  I  would 
say,  we  offer  you  a  more  ancient,  venerable,  noble  clas- 
sic, than  is  to  be  found  in  the  whole  compass  of  Grecian 
and  Roman  Literature. 


EXERCISE   76. 
Fathers  of  New  England. — SPKAGUE. 

Behold !  they  come — those  sainted  forms, 
Unshaken  through  the  strife  of  storms ; 


216  KXERC18E8. PART    I  [  Kx.  76. 

Heaven's  winter  cloud  hangs  coldly  down, 
And  earth  jmt-  «n  ii>   rudest  frown; 
Hut  e,,lder,  ruder  was  the  hand, 
That  drove  tin-in  lii'iii  their  <>\\i\  fair  land, 
Tin  ir  own  fair  land — Refinement's  chosen  seal, 
Art's  trophied  dwelling,  Learning's  green  retreat ; 
By  valor  guarded,  and   hy  victory  crown'd, 
For  all,  but  gentle  charity,  n-nown'd. 
With  streaming  eye,  yet  steadfast  heart, 
Even  from  that  land  they  dared  to  part, 

And  burst  each  tender  tie  ; 
Haunts,  where  their  sunny  youth  was  pass'd, 
Homes,  where  they  fondly  hoped  at  last 

In  peaceful  age  to  die  ; 
Friends,  kindred,  comfort,  all  they  spurn'd — 

Their  fathers'  hallow'd  graves  ; 
And  to  a  world  of  darkness  turn'd, 
Beyond  a  world  of  waves. 

2  When  Israel's  race  from  bondage  fled,     . 
Signs  from  on  high  the  wanderers  led ; 
But  here — Heaven  hung  no  symbol  1 
Tlicir  steps  to  guide,  their  souls  to  ch' 
They  saw,  through  sorrow's  lengthening  night 
Nought  but  the  fagot's  guilty  light ; 

The  cloud  they  gazed  at  was  the  smoke, 
That  round  their  murder'd  brethren  broke  ; 
Nor  power  above,  nor  power  below, 
Sustain'd  them  in  their  hour  of  woe  ; 

A  fearful  path  they  trod, 

And  dared  a  fearful  doom, 
To  build  an  altar  to  their  God, 

And  find  a  quiet  tomb. 

3  Yet,  strong  in  weakness,  there  they  stand, 

On  yonder  ice-bound  rock, 
Stern  and  resolved,  that  faithful  band, 

To  meet  fate's  rudest  shock. 
Though  ati<,'ui>li  rends  the  father's  bread, 
For  them,  his  dearest  and  his  best 

With  him  the  waste  who  trod — 
Though  tears  that  freeze,  the  mother  sheds 
Upon  her  children's  houseless  heads — 

The  Christian  turns  to  Ood  ! 


Ex.  76.]  •    EXBRCISEB PART    II.  217 

4  In  grateful  adoration  now, 
Upon  the  barren  sands  they  bow. 

What  tongue  of  joy  e'er  woke  such  prayer, 
As  bursts  in  desolation  there? 
What  arm  of  strength  e'er  wkmght  such  power, 
As  waits  to  crown  that  feeble  hour  ? 
There  into  life  an  infant  empire  springs  ! 
There  falls  the  iron  from  the  soul ; 
There  Liberty's  young  accents  roll, 

Up  to  the  King  of  kings  ! 
To  fair  creation's  farthest  bound, 
That  thrilling  summons  yet  shall  sound  ; 
The  dreaming  nations  shall  awake, 
And  to  their  centre  earth's  old  kingdoms  shake. 
Pontiff  and  prince,  your  sway 
Must  crumble  from  that  day  ; 
Before  the  loftier  throne  of  Heaven, 
The  hand  is  raised,  the  pledge  is  given — 
One  monarch  to  obey,  one  creed  to  own, 
That  monarch,  God,  that  creed,  His  word  alone. 

5  Spread  out  earth's  holiest  records  here 
Of  days  and  deeds  to  virtue  dear ; 

A  zeal  like  this  what  pious  legends  tell  ? 
On  kingdoms  built 
In  blood  and  guilt, 

The  worshipers  of  vulgar  triumph  dwell — 
But  what  exploit  with  theirs  shall  page, 

Who  rose  to  bless  their  kind  ; 
Who  left  their  nation  and  their  age, 
Man's  spirit  to  unbind  ? 
Who  boundless  seas  passed  o'er, 
And  boldly  met  in  every  path, 
Famine  and  frost,  and  heathen  wrath, 

To  dedicate  a  shore, 

Where  Piety's  meek  train  might  breathe  their  vow, 
And  seek  their  Maker  with  an  unshamed  brow  ; 
Where  Liberty's  glad  race  might  proudly  come, 
And  set  up  there  an  everlasting  home  ? 

10 


218  F.XERCISE8. PART    II.  [Ex.  77 

KXKIiriSE  77. 
Duty  of  Literary  Men  to  their  Country. — GKIMKE. 

We  cannot  honor  our  country  with  too  deep  a  rever- 
ence ;  we  cannot  love  her  with  an  affection  too  pure 
and  fervent ;  we  cannot  serve  her  with  an  energy  of 
purpose  or  a  faithfulness  of  zeal  too  steadfast  and  ar- 
5  dent.  And  what  is  our  country  ?  It  is  not  the  East,  with 
her  hills  and  her  valleys,  with  her  countless  sails,  and  the 
rocky  ramparts  of  her  shores.  It  is  not  the  North,  with 
her  thousand  villages,  and  her  harvest-home,  with  her 
frontiers  of  the  lake  and  the  ocean.  It  is  not  the 

10  West  with  her  forest-sea  and  her  inland-isles,  with  her 
luxuriant  expanses,  clothed  in  the  verdant  corn,  with 
her  beautiful  Ohio  and  her  majestic  Missouri.  Nor  is 
it  yet  the  South,  opulent  in  the  mimic  snow  of  the  cot- 
ton, in  the  rich  plantations  of  the  rustling  cane,  and 

15  in  the  golden  robes  of  the  rice-field.  What  are  these 
but  the  sister  families  of  one  greater,  better,  holier 
family,  ouu  COUNTRY  ?  I  come  not  here  to  speak  the 
dialect,  or  to  give  the  counsels  of  the  patriot-states- 
man. But  I  come,  a  patriot-scholar,  to  vindicate  the 

20  rights  and  to  plead  for  the  interests  of  the  American  Lit- 
erature. And  be  assured,  that  we  cannot,  as  patriot- 
scholars,  think  too  highly  of  that  country,  or  sacrifice 
too  much  for  her.  And  let  us  never  forget, — let  us 
rather  remember,  with  a  religious  awe,  that  the  union 

25  of  these  States  is  indispensable  to  our  Literature,  as  it 
is  to  our  national  independence  and  civil  liberties,  to 
our  prosperity,  happiness,  and  improvement.  If,  in- 
deed, we  desire  to  behold  a  Literature  like  that,  which 
has  sculptured  with  such  energy  of  expression, — which 

30  has   paint. '1    M  faithfully  and   vividly,   the   crim< 

vices,  the  follies  of  ancient  and  modern  Europe : — if 
we  desire  that  our  land  should  furnish  for  the  ora- 
tor and  the  no\tli>t.  for  the  painter  and  the  poet,  age 
after  age,  the  wild  and  romantic  scenery  of  war  . 

35  glittering  march  of  armies,  and  the  revelry  of  the 
camp  ;  the  .-hri.-k-  ami  U.isphemies,  and  all  the  horrors 
of  the  battle-field  ;  the  desolation  of  the  harvest,  and  the 


Ex.  77,  78.]  EXKKCISES. — PART  ii.  219 

burning  cottage ;  the  storm,  the  sack,  and  the  ruin  of 

40  cities ; — if  we  desire  to  unchain  the  furious  passions  of 
jealousy  and  selfishness,  of  hatred,  revenge,  and  ambition, 
those  lions?  that  now  sleep  harmless  in  their  den ; — if  we 
desire,  that  the  lake,  the  river,  the  ocean,  should  blush 
with  the  blood  of  brothers  ;  that  the  winds  should  waft 

45  from  the  laud  to  the  sea,  from  the  sea  to  the  land,  the 
roar  and  the  smoke  of  battle ;  that  the  very  mountain- 
tops  should  become  altars  for  the  sacrifice  of  brothers ; — 
if  we  desire  that  these,  and  such  as  these — the  elements 
to  an  incredible  extent,  of  the  Literature  of  the  old 

50  world — should  be  the  elements  of  our  Literature ;  then, 
but  then  only,  let  us  hurl  from  its  pedestal  the  majestic 
statue  of  our  Union,  and  scatter  its  fragments  over  ail 
our  land.  But,  if  we  covet  for  our  country  the  noblest, 
purest,  loveliest  Literature  the  world  has  ever  seen,  such 

65  a  Literature  as  shall  honor  God,  and  bless  mankind ;  a 
Literature,  whose  smiles  might  play  upon  an  angel's 
face,  whose  tears  "would  not  stain  an  angel's  cheek;" 
then  let  us  cling  to  the  union  of  these  States,  with  a 
patriot's  love,  with  a  scholar's  enthusiasm,  with  a  Chris- 

60  tian's  hope.  In  her  heavenly  character,  as  a  holocaust 
self-sacrificed  to  God ;  at  the  hight  of  her  glory,  as  the 
ornament  of  a  free,  educated,  peaceful,  Christian  people, 
American  Literature  will  find  that  THE  INTELLECTUAL 

SPIRIT   IS    HER   VERY  TREE    OF   LIFE,  AND   THAT    UNION,    HER 
65    GARDEN  OF  PARADISE. 


EXERCISE  78. 
Eulogy  on  Adams  and  Jefferson. — WIRT. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things  under  which  the  Congress 

of  1776    assembled,   when  Adams  and  Jefferson  again 

met.     It  was,  as  you  know,  in  this  Congress,  that  the 

question  of  American  Independence  came,   for  the  first 

6  time,  to  be  discussed ;  and  never,  certainly,  has  a  more 

momentous  question  been  discussed  in  any  age  or  in  any 

country  ;  for,  it  was  fraught,  not  only  with  the  destinies 

of  this  wide  extended  continent,  but   as  the  event  has 

shown,  and  is  still  showing,  with  the  destinies  of  man  all 

10  over  the  world. 


v.",»0  KXKK«  i.-i    .     i  \KI    a.  [Ex.78. 

Amid  tliis  appalling  array  that  surrounded  them,  the 
first  to  enter  the  breach,  sword  in  hand,  was  John  Adams 
— the  vision  of  his  youth  at  hi*  heart,  and  his  country 
in  every  nerve.  On  the  sixth  of  May,  he  offered,  in  com- 

15  mittee  of  the  whole,  the  significant  resolution,  that  the 

colonies    should    form    ^<>\. •nuin-nts    irnle|M-nilent  of  the 

AH.      This    was    the    harbinger    of    more   important 

measures,  and  seems  to  have  U-.  n  put  forward  to  feel 

the  pulse  of  the  House.     The  resolution,  after  a  severe 

20  struggle,  was  adopted  on  the  15th  of  May  following. 
On  the  7th  of  June,  by  previous  concert,  Richard  Henry 
Lee  moved  the  great  resolution  of  Independence,  and 
was  seconded  by  John  Adams  ;  and  "  then  came  the  tug 
of  war."  The  debate  upon  it  was  continued  from  the 

25  7th  to  the  10th,  when  the  further  consideration  of  it 
was  postponed  to  the  1st  of  July,  and  at  the  same  time 
a  committee  of  five  was  appointed  to  prepare,  provis- 
ionally, the  draught  of  a  Declaration  of  Independence. 
At  the  head  of  this  important  committee,  «  Inch  was  then 

30  appointed  by  a  vote  of  the  House,  although  he  was  prob- 
ably the  youngest  member,  and  one  of  the  youngest  men 
in  the  House,  for  he  had  served  only  part  of  the  former 
session,  and  was  but  thirty-two  years  of  age,  stands  the 
name  of  Thomas  Jefferson — Mr.  Adams's  stands  next. 

35  And  these  two  gentlemen,  having  been  deputed  a  sub- 
committee to  prepare  the  draught,  that  draught,  at  Mr. 
Adams's  earnest  importunity,  was  prepared  by  his  more 
youthful  friend.  Of  this  transaction  Mr.  Adams  is  him- 
self the  historian,  and  the  authorship  of  the  Declaration, 

40  though  once  disputed,  is  thus  placed  forever  beyond  the 
reach  of  question. 

The  final  debate  on  the  resolution  was  postponed,  as 
we  have  seen,  for  nearly  a  month.  In  toe  meantime, 
all  who  are  conversant  with  th-  , .f  action  of  all 

45  deliberative  bodies,  know  how  much  is  done  by  conver- 
sation among  the  members.  It  is  not  often,  indeed,  that 
proselytes  are  made  on  great  questions  by  public  debate. 
On  such  questions,  opinions  are  far  more  frequently 
formed  in  ]>rivate,  and  so  formed,  that  debate  is  seldom 

60  known  to  change  them.     Hence  the  value  of  t In- 
door  talent  of  chamlxr  consultation,   where  objections, 
candidly  stated,  are  candidly,  calmly,   and  mildly  dis- 
cussed ;  where  neither  pride,  not  shame,  nor  anger,  take 


Ex.  78,  79.]          EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  221 

part  in  the  discussion,  nor  stand  in  the  way  of  a  correct 

55  conclusion ;  but  where  every  thing  being  conducted 
frankly,  delicately,  respectfully,  and  kindly,  the  better 
cause  and  the  better  reasoner  are  almost  always  sure 
of  success.  In  this  kind  of  service,  as  well  as  in  all 
that  depended  on  the  power  of  composition,  Mr.  Jefferson 

60  was  as  much  a  master-magician,  as  his  eloquent  friend 
Adams  was  in  debate.  They  were,  in  truth,  hemis- 
pheres of  the  same  golden  globe,  and  required  only  to  be 
brought  and  put  together,  to  prove  that  they  were  parts 
of  the  same  heaven-formed  whole. 

65  On  the  present  occasion,  however,  much  still  remain- 
ed to  be  effected  by  debate.  The  first  of  July  came, 
and  the  great  debate  on  the  resolution  for  Independence 
was  resumed  with  fresh  spirit.  The  discussion  was 
again  protracted  for  two  days,  which,  in  addition  to  the 

70  former  three,  were  sufficient,  in  that  age,  to  call  out  all 

the  speaking  talent  of  the  House.       *         *         *         * 

Mr.  Jefferson  has  told  us,  that  "  the   Colossus  of  that 

.  Congress — the  great  pillar  of  support  to  the  Declaration 

of  Independence,  and  its  ablest  advocate  and  champion 

75  on  the  floor  of  the  House,  was  John  Adams." 

********* 

The  resolution  having  been  carried,  the  draught  of 
the  Declaration  came  to  be  examined  in  detail ;  and,  so 
faultless  had  it  issued  from  the  hands  of  its  author,  that 

80  it  was  adopted  as  he  had  prepared  it,  pruned  only  of  a 
few  of  its  brightest  inherent  beauties,  through  a  prudent 
deference  to  some  of  the  States.  It  was  adopted  about 
noon  of  the  Fourth,  and  proclaimed  to  an  exulting  nation, 
on  the  evening  of  the  same  day. 

85  That  brave  and  animated  band  who  signed  it — where 
are  they  now  ?  What  heart  does  not  sink  at  the  ques- 
tion? One  only  survives:  CHARLES  CARROLL,  of  Car- 
rollton — a  noble  specimen  of  the  age  that  has  gone  by, 
and  now  the  single  object  of  that  age,  on  whom  the  vene- 

90  ration  and  prayers  of  his  country  are  concentrated. 


EXERCISE  79. 

The  Greek  Revolution. — WEBSTER. 
The  end   and   scope   of  this   amalgamated   policy  is 
neither  more  nor  less  than  this  ; — to  interfere,  by  force, 


2*29  BZBIOIBE8. PART    II.  [Kx.7fl. 

for  any  government,  against  any  people  who  may  resist 
it.  Be  the  state  of  the  people  what  it  may,  they  shall 
5  not  rise;  be  the  government  what  it  will,  it  shall  not 
be  opposed.  The  practical  commentary  has  correspond- 
ed with  the  plain  language  of  the  text.  Look  at  Spain 
and  at  Greece.  If  men  may  not  resist  the  Spanish 
inquisition,  and  the  Turkish  cimiter,  what  is  there  to 

10  which  humanity  must  not  submit?  Stronger  cases  can 
m-ver  arise. — Is  it  not  proper  for  us,  at  all  times — Is  it 
not  our  duty,  at  this  time,  to  come  forth,  and  deny,  and 
condemn,  these  monstrous  principles  ?  Where,  but  here 
and  in  one  other  place,  are  they  likely  to  be  resisted  ? 

15  They  are  advancing  with  equal  coolness  and  boldness ; 
and  they  are  supported  by  immense  power.  The  timid 
will  shrink  and  give  way — and  many  of  the  brave  may 
be  compelled  to  yield  to  force.  Human  liberty  may  yet, 
perhaps,  be  obliged  to  repose  its  principal  hopes  on  the 

20  intelligence  and  the  vigor  of  the  Saxon  race.  As  far 
as  depends  on  us,  at  least,  I  trust  those  hopes  will  not 
be  disappointed ;  and  that,  to  the  extent  which  may  con- 
sist with  our  own  settled,  pacific  policy,  our  opinions  and 
sentiments  may  be  brought  to  act  on  the  right  side,  and 

25  to  the  right  end,  on  an  occasion  which  is,  in  truth, 
nothing  less  than  a  momentous  question  between  an  in- 
telligent age,  full  of  knowledge,  thirsting  for  improve- 
ment, and  quickened  by  a  thousand  impulses,  and  t In- 
most arbitrary  pretensions,  sustained  by  unprecedented 

30  power. 

In  four  days,  the  fire  and  the  sword  of  the  Turk,  ren- 
dered the  beautiful  Scio  a  clotted  mass  of  blood  and 
ashes.  The  details  are  too  shocking  to  be  recited.  Forty 
thousand  women  and  children,  unhappily  saved  from  the 

35  general  destruction,  were  afterwards  sold  in  the  market 
of  Smyrna,  and  sent  off  into  distant  and  hopeless  servi- 
tude. Even  on  the  wharves  of  our  own  cities,  it  has 
been  said,  have  been  sold  the  utensils  of  those  hearths 
which  now  exist  no  longer.  Of  the  whole  population 

40  which   I  have  mentioned,  not  above  900  persons  were 
left  living  upon  the  island.     I  will  only  repeat,  sir,  that 
these  tragical  scenes  were  as  fully  known  at  the  Con- 
gress of  Vienna,  as  th>  '•  known  to  us;  and  it  is 
.  not  too  much  to  call  on  the  powers  that  constituted  that 

46  Congress,  in  the  name  of  conscience,  and  in  the  name 


«*, 
Ex.  79,  80.]          EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  223 

of  humanity,  to  tell  us  if  there  be  nothing  even  in  these 
unparalleled  excesses  of  Turkish  barbarity,  to  excite  a  sen- 
timent of  compassion ;  nothing  which  they  regard  as  so 
objectionable  as  even  the  very  idea  of  popular  resistance 

50  to  arbitrary  power.  *         *         * 

I  close,  then,  sir,  with  repeating,  that  the  object  of 
this  resolution  is,  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  interesting 
occasion  of  the  Greek  revolution,  to  make  our  protest 
against  the  doctrines  of  the  Allied  Powers  ;  both  as  they 

55  are  laid  down  in  principle,  and  as  they  are  applied  in 
practice. 

I  think  it  right,  too,  sir,  not  to  be  unseasonable  in  the 
expression  of  our  regard,  and,  as  far  as  that  goes,  in  a 
ministration  of  our  consolation  to  a  long  oppressed  and 

60  now  struggling  people.  I  am  not  of  those  who  would  in 
the  hour  of  utmost  peril,  withhold  such  encouragement 
as  might  be  properly  and  lawfully  given,  and  when  the 
crisis  should  be  passed,  overwhelm  the  rescued  sufferer 
with  kindness  and  caresses.  The  Greeks  address  the 

65  civilized  world  with  a  pathos  not  easy  to  be  resisted. 
They  invoke  our  favor  by  more  moving  considerations 
than  can  well  belong  to  the  condition  of  any  other  people. 
They  stretch  out  their  arms  to  the  Christian  communities 
of  the  earth,  beseeching  them,  by  a  generous  recollection 

70  of  their  ancestors;  by  the  consideration  of  their  own 
desolated  and  ruined  cities  and  villages  ;  by  their  wives 
and  children,  sold  into  an  accursed  slavery ;  by  their  own 
blood,  which  they  seem  willing  to  pour  out  like  water ; 
by  the  common  faith,  and  in  the  Name  which  unites  all 

*I5  Christians,  that  they  would  extend  to  them,  at  least  some 
token  of  compassionate  regard. 


EXERCISE  80. 
Triumph  of  the  Gospel. — PHILLIP. 

Whatever  may  be  said  scoffingly,  or  in  earnest,  about 
the  march  of  intellect,  the  age  in  which  we  live  is 
more  distinguished  than  perhaps  any  other,  by  the  march 
and  triumph  of  enlightened,  religious,  and  moral  prin- 
ciple. Even  the  world  itself  seems  to  have  forebodings 
of  an  approaching  change ;  all  creatures  sigh  to  be  re- 
newed ;  the  whole  creation  groaneth  and  travaileth  in 


XXJBRCUKS. fA»T    II.  [Ex.  8O 

pain  together.  There  is  at  present  a  restlessne**  and 
an  apprehension  uu  the  public  mind,  in  relation  to  com- 

10  in^  something  resembling   the   uneasiness   and 

anxiety  occasioned  by  the  atmosphere,  which  is  some- 
times tin-  forerunner  of  an  earthquake;  like  Jerusalem, 
when  Christ  entered  it  on  his  way  to  Calvary — the 
whole  world  seems  to  be  moved — in  short,  all  nature 

15  sec'  upathize  with  us,  who  have  the  tirst  fruits  of 

the  Spirit,  while  we  groan  within  ourselves,  waiting  for 
the  adoption,  to  wit.  the  redemption  of  our  be 
have  every  reason  to  believe  that  we  are  at  this  moment 
standing  on  the  brink  of  a  great  moral  revolution.     The 

20  Angel  of  the  Apocalypse,  having  the  everlasting  Gospel 
to  preach  to  them  that  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of 
the  earth,  is  now  on  the  wing;  the  shadow  of  dealt)  is 
in  many  parts  turned  into  the  morning ;  the  dawn  of 
that  day  which  is  to  renovate  the  dominions  of  darkness 

25  has  arisen  upon  us ;  the  delightful  anticipations  of  for- 
mer ages  begin  to  be  realized ;  the  splendid  visions  of 
prophecy  are  now  embodying  before  our  eyes ;  and 
from  the  altar  of  God  a  fire  has  been  kindled,  which, 
like  the  last  conflagration,  will  continue  to  burn,  till  the 

SO  elements  of  corruption  shall  burn  with  fervent  heat — till 
the  earth,  or  political  1  which  are  unfavorable  t<> 

the  progress  of  divine  truth,  shall  be  purified,  or  shall 
pass  away  with  a  great  noise — till  every  idol  in  the  hea- 
then  world  shall  be  consumed — till  the  present  system 

85  of  things  shall  give  place  to  the  new  heavens  and  the 
new  earth — till  the  celestial  voice  shall  salute  our  ears, 
"  Behold  the  tabernacle  of  God  is  with  men,  and  he  will 
dwell  with  them,  and  thry  shall  In-  his  people,  and  he 
will  be  their  God." 

40  Were  yonder  sun  turned  into  darkness  and  the  moon 
into  blood ;  were  the  whole  frame  of  nature  dissolved, 
God  would  n-niain.  <;.•<!  would  be  the  same  in  himself 
as  he  now  is  ;  Imt  the  promise*  contain,  virtually  con- 
tain the  \<-ra<ity  of  « rod  ;  and  when  it  is  said  that  the 

45  glory  of  the  Ix>rd  shall  cover  the  earth,  as  the  waters 

cover  the  channels  of  the  groat  deep,  it  is  enough  for 

me  that  the  mouth  <>f  th.-  Lord  hath  spoken  it.     I  take 

my  stand  upon  the  high  table-land  of  promise,  and  look 

•  ard  with  certainty  to  the  period,  when  all  the  pro- 

50  miseg,  which    respect   th«  future   grandeur  of  .Christ's 


Ex.  80,  81.]         EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  225 

kingdom,  shall  be  accomplished. — Arise  and  shine,  for 
thy  light  is  come ;  let  the  Directors  of  this  Society  arise 
and  shine ;  let  the  churches  of  London  arise  and  shine ; 
let  the  ministers  of  London  arise  and  shine ;  let  the  rich 

55  professors  of  religion  arise  and  shine.  Zion,  the  joy  of 
the  whole  earth,  shall  arise  and  shine,  for  the  glory  of 
the  Lord  has  arisen  upon  her;  her  palaces  shall  be 
adorned  by  the  just  and  good  of  all  ages.  Multitudes 
who  live  in  regions  far  remote,  and  myriads  yet  to  come, 

60  will  arise  to  call  her  blessed :  the  barbarous  nations  shall 
attend  at  her  gates,  the  numerous  tribes  of  Africa,  the 
millions  of  Madagascar,  and  the  teeming  population  of 
India,  and  of  China,  shall  be  seen  pressing  forward  to 
her  hallowed  courts,  bending  in  her  sanctuary,  and  offer- 

65  ing  unto  God  the  sacrifice  of  praise  and  thanksgiving 
The  wealth  of  the  nations  shall  be  brought  into  her 
treasury,  the  martial  trumpet  shall  be  suspended  on  her 
battlements,  and  the  temple  of  peace  shall  exhibit  the 
sword  and  spear,  to  remind  us  of  the  triumph  of  the 

70  Gospel.  Kings'  daughters  shall  be  among  her  honorable 
women,  the  daughter  of  Tyre  shall  be  there  with  a  gift, 
the  gold  of  Sheba  and  Seba  shall  be  offered  unto  her, 
and  the  rich  among  the  people  shall  entreat  her  favor ; 
the  light  himself  shall  shine  revealed  from  Heaven,  and 

75  one  tide  of  glory,  one  unclouded  blaze,  shall  overflow  her 
courts.- 


EXERCISE   81. 
Duties  and  Prospects  of  New  England. — PRES.  QUINCY. 

And  now,  standing  at  this  hour  on  the  dividing  line 
which  separates  the  ages  that  are  past,  from  those  which 
are  to  come,  ho\v  solemn  is  the  thought  that  not  one  of 
this  vast  assembly — not  one  of  that  great  multitude  who 
5  now  throng  our  streets,  rejoice  in  our  fields,  and  make 
our  hills  echo  with  their  gratulations,  shall  live  to  witness 
the  next  return  of  the  era  we  this  day  celebrate !  The 
dark  veil  of  futurity  conceals  from  human  sight  the  fate 
of  cities  and  nations,  as  well  as  of  individuals.  Man 
10  passes  away ;  generations  are  but  shadows ; — there  is 
nothing  stable  but  truth  ;  principles  only  are  immortal. 

What,  then,  in  conclusion  of  this  great  topic,  are  the 
elements  of  the  liberty,  prosperity,  and  safety,  which  the 
10* 


EXEECIBEB.  -  FART    II.  (  K\ 


inhabitants  of  New  England  at  i  :ijoy?    In  what 

15  language,  ami  concerning  what  comprehensive  truths,  doe« 
the  wisdom  of  former  times  address  the  inexperience  of 
t  he  future  ? 

Those  elements  are  simple,  obvious,  and  familiar. 
Every  civil  and  religious  blessing  of  New  England,  all 
20  that  here  gives  happiness  to  human  life,  or  security  t<> 
human  virtue,  is  alone  to  be  perpetuated  in  the  forms  and 
under  the  auspices  of  a  free  commonwealth. 

The  commonwealth  itself  lias  no  other  strength  or  hope, 
than  the  intelligence  and  virtue  of  the  individuals  that 
25  compose  it 

For  the  intelligence  and  virtue  of  individuals,  there  is 
no  other  human  assurance  than  laws,  providing  for  the 
(•duration  <•("  the  whole  people. 

These  laws  themselves   have  no  strength,  or  efficient 

30  sanction,  except  in  the  moral  and  accountable  nature  of 

man,  disclosed  in  the  records  of  the  Christian's  faith,  the 

right  to  read,  to  construe,  and  to  judge  concerning  which, 

belongs  to  no  class  or  caste  of  men,  but  exclusively  to  the 

individual,  who  must  stand  or  fall  by  his  own  acts  and  his 

85  own  faith,  and  not  by  those  of  another. 

The  great  comprehensive  truths,  written  in  letters  of 
living  light  on  every  page  of  our  history,  —  the  language 
addressed  by  every  past  age  of  New  England  to  all  future 
ages  is  this  :  —  Human  happiness  has  no  perfect  xecurily 
40  but  freedom;  —  -freedom  none  but  virtue  ;  —  virtue  none  but 
knowledge  ;  and  neither  freedom,  nor  virtue,  nor  knowledge 
has  any  vigor,  or  immortal  hope,  except  in  the  principles 
of  the  C  hristian  faith,  and  in  the  sanctions  of  the  Christian 

•lion. 

45       Men  of  Massachusetts  !  Citizens  of  Boston  !    Descend- 

ants of  the  i  arly  emigrants!    Consider  your  bles^; 

murder  your  duties.      You   have  an  inlieritani-e  ji.-.juii'-d 

i)\-  the  labors  ami  sulierings  of  six  successive  generations 

of  ancestors.     They  founded   the   fabric  of  your  prosper- 

50  ity,  in  a  severe  and   ma.s.'uline  morality;  having  intdli- 

<  e  for  its  cement,   and   religion  for  its  groundwork. 

Continue  to  build   on  the  same  foundation,  and   by  the 

same   principles;  let  the  extending  temple  of  your  coun- 

freedom   rise,  iii   the  spirit  of  ancient  times,  in  pro- 

55  portions    of   intellectual    ana    moral    architecture,  —  just, 

MID  pie.  and  sublime.     As  from  the  first  to  this  day.  let 


Ex.  81,  82.]  EXERCISES. PART    II. 

New  England  continue  to  be  an  example  to  the  world, 
of  the  blessings  of  a  free  government,  and  of  the  means 
and  capacity  of  man  to  maintain  it.  And,  in  all  times  to 
60  come,  as  in  all  times  past,  may  Boston  be  among  the  fore- 
most and  boldest  to  exemplify  and  uphold  whatever  con- 
stitutes the  prosperity,  the  happiness,  and  the  glory  of 
New  England. 


EXERCISE   82. 
The  Sabbath  School  Teacher. — JAMES. 

My  fancy  has  sometimes  presented  me  with  this  picture 

of  a  faithful  Sabbath  school  teacher's  enirance  to  the  state 

of  her  everlasting  rest.     The  agony  of  dissolution  is  closed, 

the  triumph  of  faith  completed,  and  the  conquering  spirit 

5  hastens  to  her  crown. 

Upon  the  confines  of  the  heavenly  world,  a  form  divinely 
fair  awaits  her  arrival.  Wrapt  in  astonishment  at  the 
dazzling  glory  of  this  celestial  inhabitant,  and  as  yet  a 
stranger  in  the  world  of  spirits,  she  inquires,  "  Is  this 

10  Gabriel,  chief  of  all  the  heavenly  hosts,  and  am  I  honored 

with  his  aid  to  guide  me  to  the  throne  of  God  ?" 
s      With  a  smile  of  ineffable  delight,  such  as  gives  fresh 
beauty  to  an  angel's  countenance,  the  mystic  form  replies, 
Dost  thou  remember  little  Elizabeth,  who  was  in  yonder 

15  world  a  Sunday  scholar  in  thy  class  ?  Dost  thou  recollect 
the  child  who  wept  as  thou  talkedst  to  her  of  sin,  and 
directed  her  to  the  cross  of  the  dying  Redeemer  ?  God 
smiled  with  approbation  upon  thy  effort,  and  by  his  own 
Spirit  sealed  the  impression  upon  her  heart  in  characters 

20  never  to  be  effaced. 

Providence  removed  her  from  beneath  thy  care,  before 
the  fruit  of  thy  labor  was  visible.  The  seed,  however, 
had  taken  root,  and  it  was  the  business  of  another  to 
water  what  thou  didst  sow.  Cherished  by  the  influence 

25  of  Heaven,  the  plant  of  religion  flourished  in  her  heart 
and  shed  its  fragrance  upon  her  character. 

Piety,  after  guarding  her  from  the  snares  of  youth, 
cheered  her  amidst  the  accumulated  trials  of  an  afflicted 
life,  supported  her  amidst  the  agonies  of  her  last  conflict, 

80  and  elevated  her  to  the  mansions  of  immortality  :  and 
now  behold  before  thee  the  glorified  spirit  of  that  poor 


228  KXEftCJBEB. PAX T    II  [Ex.  89,  88. 

child,  who,  under  God,  owes  the  eternal  lift-  on  which  she 
has  lately  entered,  to  thy  faithful  labors  in  the  Sunday 
School;  and  who  is  now  sent  by  our  Redeemer  to  intm 

35  duce  thee  to  tin-  world  of  ^Imy,  as  thy  first  and  least  re- 
ward for  guiding  the  om-e  t In. ii-jlu !<•>>,  ignorant,  wicked 
Elizabeth  to  the  world  of  grace.  Hail,  happy  spirit  ' 
Hail,  favored  of  the  Lord  !  Hail,  deliverer  of  my  soul ! 
Hail,  to  the  world  of  eternal  glory  ! 

40  I  can  trace  the  scene  BO  farther.  I  cannot  paint  the 
raptures  produced  in  the  honored  tia.  h,  r's  bosom  by  this 
unexpected  interview.  I  cannot  depict  the  mutual  grati- 
tude and  love  of  two  such  spirits  meeting  on  the  confines 
of  heaven  ;  much  less  can  I  follow  them  to  their  overlast- 

45  ing  man>i»n  and  disclose  the  bliss  which  they  shall  enjoy 
before  the  throne  of  God.  All  this,  and  a  thousand  times 
more,  is  attendant  upon  the  salvation  of  one  single  soul. 
Teachers,  what  a  motive  to  diligence  ! 


EXERCISE   83. 
Motivet  of  tkf  Gotpel. — D WIGHT. 

To  this  divine,  this  indispensable  employment,  every 
motive  calls  you,  which  ran  reach  the  heart  of  virtue, 
or  wisdom.  The  terms,  on  which  these  blessings  of  the 
Gospel  arc  offered,  are  of  all  terms  the  most  reasonable. 
5  You  are  summoned  to  no  sacrifice  but  of  sin,  and  shame. 
and  wretchedness.  No  service  is  demanded  of  you,  but 
services  of  gain,  and  glory.  "  My  son,  give  me  thine 
heart,"  is  the  requisition  which  involves  them  all. 

Remember  how  vast,  how  multiplied,  how  noble,  these 

10  blessings  are!  Remember  that  tin-  happiness  of  heaven  is 
not  only  unmingled  and  consummate ;  not  only  uninter- 
rupted and  immortal  :  but  >  <•<  r  j>rogrf*rive. 

To  this  scene  of  glory,  all  things  continually  urge  you. 
The  seasons  roll  on  their  soli-run  course.     The  earth  yields 

15  its  increase,  to  furnish  blessings  to  support  you.  Mercies 
charm  you  to  their  Author.  Afflictions  warn  you  of  ap- 
proaching ruin  ;  and  drive  you  to  the  ark  of  safety.  Mag- 
istrates uphold  order  and  peace,  that  you  may  consecrate 
your  labors  to  the  divine  attainment. 

20  Ministers  proclaim  to  you  the  glad  iidingt  of  great  joy  ; 
and  point  out  to  you  the  path  to  heaven.  The  Sabbath 


fix.  83.]         .  EXERCISES. PART    II.  229 

faithfully  returns  its  mild  and  sweet  season  of  grace,  that 
earthly  objects  may  not  engross  your  thoughts,  and  pre- 
vent your  attention  to  immortality.  The  sanctuary  un- 

25  folds  its  doors  ;  and  invites  you  to  enter  in  and  be  saved. 
The  Gospel  still  shines  to  direct  your  feet,  and  to  quicken 
your  pursuit  of  the  inestimable  prize. 

Saints  wait,  with  fervent  hope  of  renewing  their  joy 
over  your  repentance.  Angels  spread  their  wings  to  con- 

30  duct  you  home.  The  Father  holds  out  the  golden  scepter 
of  forgiveness,  that  you  may  touch,  and  live.  The  Son 
died  on  the  cross,  ascended  to  heaven,  and  intercedes  be- 
fore the  throne  of  mercy,  that  you  may  be  accepted. 
The  Spirit  of  grace  and  truth  descends  with  his  benevo- 

35  lent  influence,  to  allure  and  persuade  you. 

While  all  things,  and  God  at  the  head  of  all  things,  are 
thus  kindly,  and  solemnly  employed,  to  encourage  you  in 
the  pursuit  of  this  inestimable  good,  will  you  forget,  that 
you  have  souls,  which  must  be  saved,  or  lost  ?  Will  you 

40  forget,  that  the  only  time  of  salvation  is  the  present  ?  that 
beyond  the  grave  there  is  no  Gospel  to  be  preached  ?  that 
there  no  offers  of  life  are  to  be  made  ?  that  no  Redeemer 
will  there  expiate  your  sins  ;  and  no  forgiving  God  receive 
your  souls  ? 

45  Of  what  immense  moment,  then,  is  the  present  life ! 
How  invaluable  every  Sabbath ;  every  mean  of  salvation  ! 
Think  how  soon  your  last  Sabbath  will  set  in  darkness ; 
and  the  last  sound  of  mercy  die  upon  your  ears  !  How 
painful,  how  melancholy  an  object,  to  a  compassionate 

50  eye,  is  a  blind,  unfeeling,  unrepenting  immortal ! 

See  the  gates  of  life  already  unfolding  to  admit  you. 
The  first-born  open  their  arms  to  welcome  you  to  their 
divine  assembly.  The  Saviour,  who  is  gone  before  to 
prepare  a  place  for  your  reception,  informs  you,  that  all 

55  things  are  ready.  With  triumph,  then,  with  ecstacy, 
hasten  to  enjoy  the  reward  of  his  infinite  labors  in  a 
universe  of  good,  and  in  the  glory,  which  he  had  with  t/ie 
Father  before  ever  the  world  was. 


A«T  ii.  V,\.  84. 


!:\r.ucisi:  84. 

Character  of  Richard  Reynolds. — TIIURPK. 

Ixx>k  at  mighty  Athens,  and  you  will  everywhere 
perceive  monuments  of  taste,  and  genius,  and  elegance ! 
Look  at  imperial,  Pagan  Rome  in  all  her  glory  !  You 
will  behold  all  the  grandeur  of  the  human  intellect  un- 
it folded  in  her  temples,  her  palaces,  and  her  amphitheatres. 
You  will  find  no  hospital  or  infirmary ;  no  asylum  for 
the  aged  and  the  infirm,  the  fatherless  and  the  widow; 
the  blind,  the  dumb,  the  deaf;  the  outcast  and  the  desti- 
tute. 

10  How  vastly  superior  in  this  respect  is  Bristol  to  Ath- 
ene,— is  London  to  Rome.  These,  Christianity,  are  thy 
triumphs !  These  are  thy  lovely  offspring  !  they  all  bear 
the  lineaments  of  their  common  parent.  Their  family 

15  likeness  proves  the  sameness  of  their  origin.  Mercy  con- 
joined with  purity  is  the  darling  attribute  of  our  holy  re- 
ligion. 

Its  great  Founder  was  mercy  embodied  in  a  human 
form.  Those  virtues  which  shone  in  him  shone  in  Rey- 

20  nolds  also  ;  though  with  a  diminished  lustre,  when  com- 
pared with  his  great  original : — yet  in  a  brighter  lustre 
than  in  the  rest  of  mankind. 

But  whence,  it  may  be  demanded,  came  it  to  pass  that 
this  man  rose  so  high  above  the  great  mass  of  professed 

26  Christians  ?     The  answer  is  obvious.     The  great  mass  of 

professed    Christians  are   Christians  only  by  profession. 

Reynolds  was  a  Christian  in  reality.     His  Christianity 

was  cordial — ardent — energetic.      v  empty  name — 

n  I)  -fie.-ulation  ;  but  a  vital  principle. 

80       Vital  C'hri>fianity  is  not  so  much  a  solitary  beauty,  as 

UtY. 

It  '•< ".\\\> mi  <  the  wi<ilom  of  the  serpent,  with  the  inno- 
cence of  (lie  dove  ;  the  gentleness  of  the 'lamb,  with  the. 
courage  of  the  lion.  It  adds  a  charm  to  the  bloom  of 

36  youth,  and  converts  the  hoary  head  into  a  crown  of  glory. 
It  gives  dignity  to  the  palace,  and  brings  heaven  into  the 
cottage.  The  king  upon  the  throne  is  not  so  venerable 
by  the  crown  that  encir.  !« ••<  his  brow,  as  by  the  religion 
that  renders  him  the  father  of  his  people  and  the  obedient 

40  servant  of  the  Sovereign  of  the  world. 


Ex.  85.]  KXK.ti:isr:3. — PART  ir.  231 

EXERCISE  85. 

Address  of  the  Bible  Society, — 1816. — MASON. 
People  of  the  United  States — 

Have  you  ever  been  invited  to  an  enterprise  of  such 
grandeur  and  glory  ?  Do  you  not  value  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures ?  Value  them  as  containing  your  sweetest  hope ; 
your  most  thrilling  joy  ?  Can  you  submit  to  the  thought 
5  that  you  should  be  torpid  in  your  endeavors  to  disperse 
them,  while  the  rest  of  Christendom  is  awake  and  alert  ? 

Shall  you  hang  back,  in  heartless  indifference,  when 
princes  come  down  from  their  thrones,  to  bless  the  cot- 
tage of  the  poor  with  the  Gospel  of  peace ;  and  imperial 

10  sovereigns  are  gathering  their  fairest  honors  from  spread- 
ing abroad  the  oracles  of  the  Lord  your  God  ?  Is  it 
possible  that  you  should  not  see,  in  this  state  of  human 
things,  a  mighty  motion  of  Divine  Providence  ? 

The    most   heavenly   charity   treads    close   upon   the 

15  march  of  conflict  and  blood !  The  world  is  at  peace ! 
Scarce  has  the  soldier  time  to  unbind  his  helmet,  and  to 
wipe  away  the  sweat  from  his  brow,  ere  the  voice  of 
mercy  succeeds  to  the  clarion  of  battle,  and  calls  the 
nations  from  enmity  to  love  !  Crowned  heads  bow  to  the 

20  head  that  is  to  wear  "  many  crowns  ;"  and,  for  the  first 
time  since  the  promulgation  of  Christianity,  appear  to  act 
in  unison  for  the  recognition  of  its  gracious  principles,  as 
being  fraught  alike  with  happiness  to  man  and  honor  to 
God. 

25  What  has  created  so  strange,  so  beneficent  an  altera- 
tion ?  This  is  no  doubt  the  doing  of  the  Lord,  and  it  is 
marvelous  in  our  eyes.  But  what  instrument  has  he 
thought  fit  chiefly  to  u*e  ?  That  which  contributes,  in  all 
latitudes  and  climes,  to  make  Christians  feel  their  unity, 

30  to  rebuke  the  spirit  of  strife,  and  to  open  upon  them  the 
day  of  brotherly  concord : — The  Bible  !  the  Bible  ! — 
through  Bible  Societies ! 

Come,  then,  fellow-citizens,  fellow-Christians;  let  us 
join  in  the  sacred  covenant.  Let  no  heart  be  cold ;  no 

35  hand  be  idle ;  no  purse  reluctant !  Come,  while  room  is 
left  for  us  in  the  ranks  whose  toil  is  goodness,  and  whose 
recompense  is  victory.  Come  cheerfully,  eagerly,  gen- 
erallv. 


KXBKC18B8. FART    11.  [El.  86. 


KXKRf'ISE  86. 

The  Roman  Soldier. — Last  Days  of  Herculaneum. 
ATHERSTONE. 

PART  I. 

There  was  a  man, 

A  Roman  Soldier,  for  some  daring  deed 
That  trespass'd  on  the  laws,  in  dungeon  low 
Chain'd  down.     His  was  a  noble  spirit,  rough, 
5   Hut  generous,  and  brave,  and  kind. 
lie  had  a  ><>a,  it  was  a  rosy  boy/ 
A  little  faithful  copy  of  his  sire 
In  face  and  gesture,      l-'nua  infancy  the  child 
Had  been  his  father's  solace  and  his  care. 

10  Kvery  sport 

The  father  shared  and  heighten'd.  But  at  length 
The  rigorous  law  had  grasp'd  him,  and  comlemn'd 
To  fetters  and  to  darkness. 

Tlie  captive's  lot 

15  He  felt  in  all  its  bitterness: — the  walls 
Of  his  deep  dungeon  answer'd  many  a  sigh 
And    heai  t-heaved   groan.      His   tale   was   known,   and 

touch 'd 
Hi.-  jail«-r  \\ith  compassion  ; — and  the  boy, 

20  Thenceforth  u  frequent  visitor,  beguiled 

His  father's  lingering  hours,  and  brought  a  balm 
With  his  lo\ed  pri-x-iice,  that  in  every  wound 
Dropt  healing.     But  in  tln>  terrific  hour, 
II.-  was  a  poison  <d  arrow  in  the  breast 

25   Where  he  had  been  a  cure. —  . 

With  earliest  morn, 

Of  tin!  lir>i  day  of  dink:;.    -  and  amaze, 
I  !••,.<        I,.         ;>  d«  "ir  w;is  closed, — for  them 
r  to  open  more!     The  day,  tin-  ni^ht, 

30  Dragg'd  slowly  by  ;  nor  did  they  know  the  fate 
Impending  o'ei  Well  they  heard 

The  pent-up  tlniiuler>  in  tin*  earth  beneath, 
And  felt  ius  1  the  air 

Grew  li  I'Ut  in  Ins  straw 

35  Tlie  boy  was  sleeping:  and  the  father  hoped 


Ex.  80.]  KXEHCISES. — PART  ii.  233 

The  earthquake  might  pass  by;  nor  would  he  wake 
From  his  sound  rest  the  unfearing  child,  nor  tell 
The  dangers  of  their  state.  (0)  On  his  low  couch 
The  fetter'd  soldier  sunk — and  with  deep  awe 

40  Listen'd  the  fearful  sounds : — with  upturn'd  eye 

To  the  great  gods  he  breathed  a  prayer ; — then  strove 
To  calm  himself,  and  lose  in  sleep  awhile 
His  useless  terrors.     But  he  could  not  sleep  : — 
His  body  burned  with  feverish  heat ; — his  chains 

45  Clank'd  loud  although  he  moved  not :  deep  in  earth 
Groan'd  unimaginable  thunders  : — sounds, 
Fearful  and  ominous,  arose  and  died, 
Like  the  sad  moanings  of  November's  wind, 
In  the  blank  midnight.  (  *•  )  Deepest  horror  chill'd 

50  His  blood  that  burn'd  before ; — cold  clammy  swSats 
Came  o'er  him : — (— )  then  anon  a  fiery  thrill 
Shot  through  his  veins.     Now  on  his  couch  he  shrunk, 
And  shiver'd  as  in  fear : — now  upright  leap'd, 
As  though  he  heard  the  battle-trumpet  sound, 

55  And  long'd  to  cope  with  death. 

He  slept  at  last, 

A  troubled,  dreamy  sleep.     Well, — had  he  slept 
Never  to  waken  more  !     His  hours  are  few, 
But  terrible  his  agony. 

PART  II. 

Soon  the  storm 

Burst  forth :  the  lightnings  glanced  : — the  air 
Shook  with  the  thunders.     They  awoke  ;  they  sprung 
Amazed  upon  their  feet.     The  dungeon  glow'd 
5  A  moment  as  in  sunshine, —  and  was  dark: — 
Again  a  flood  of  white  flame  fills  the  cell ; 
Dying  away  upon  the  dazzled  eye 
In  darkening,  quivering  tints,  as  stunning  sound 
Dies  throbbing,  ringing  in  the  ear.     Silence, 

10  And  blackest  darkness. — With  intensest  awe 

The  soldier's  frame  was  fill'd.;  and  many  a  thought 
Of  strange  foreboding  hurried  through  his  mind, 
As  underneath  he  felt  the  fever'd  earth 
Jarring  and  lifting — and  the  massive  walls 

15  Heard  harshly  grate  and  strain :  yet  knew  he  not, 
While  evils  undefined  and  yet  to  come 


BXKBCIBES. PART    II.  [Ex.  86. 

Glanced  through  his  thoughts,  what  deep  and  cureless 

wound 

Fate  had  already  given. — Where,  man  of  woe ! 
20   Where,  wretched  father !  is  thy  boy  ?     Thou  call'st 
His  name  in  vain : — he  cannot  answer  thee — 

Loudly  the  father  call'd  upon  hU  child : — 
No  voice  replied.     Trembling  and  anxiously 
He  search'd  their  couch  of  straw  : — with  headlong  haste 

25  Trod  round  his  stinted  limits,  and,  low  bent, 

Groped  darkling  on  the  ••  irtii :  no  child  was  there. 

Again  he  call'd  : — again,  at  farthest  stretch 

Of  his  accursed  fetters, — till  the  blood 

Seem'd  bursting  from  his  ears,  and  from  his  eyes 

SO  Fire  flash'd, — he  strained  with  arm  extended  far. 
And  fingers  widely  >pr»-a<l,  greedy  to  touch 
Though  but  his  idol's  garment.     Useless  toil ! 
Yet  still  renew'd : — still  round  and  round  he  goes, 
And  strains,  and  snatches, — and  with  dreadful  cries 

35  Calls  on  his  boy.     Mad  frenzy  tires  him  now : 
He  plants  against  the  wall  his  feet ; — his  chain 
Grasps  ; — tugs  with  giant  strength  to  force  away 
The  deep-driven  staple  ;  yells  and  shrieks  with  rage, 
And,  like  a  desert  lion  in  the  snare 

40  Raging  to  break  his  toils, — to  and  fro  bounds. 
But  see !  the  ground  w  opening : — a  blue  light 
Mounts,  gently  waving, — noiseless : — thin  and  cold 
It  seems,  and  like  a  rainbow  tint,  not  flame ; 
But  by  its  lustre,  on  the  earth  outstretch'd, 

45  Behold  the  lifeless  child  ! — his  dress  is  singed, 
And  o'er  his  face  serene  a  darken'd  line 
Points  out  the  lightning's  track. 

The  father  saw, — 

And  all  his  fury  fled : — a  dead  calm  fell 
50  That  instant  on  him  :  speechless,  fix'd  he  stood, 
And  with  a  look  that  never  wander'd,  gazed 
Intensely  on  the  corse.     Those  laughing  eyes 
Wore  not  yet  closed, — and  round  those  ruby  lips 
The  wonted  smile  return'd. 

55  nt  and  pale 

•  father  stands : — no  tear  is  in  his  eye  : — 
The  thunders  bdilow — but  he  hears  them  n6t ; — 


Ex.  86,  87.]          EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  235 

The  ground  lifts  like  a  sea : — he  knows  it  not : — 
The  strong  walls  grind  and  gape  : — the  vaulted  roof 
60  Takes  shapes  like  bubbles  tossing  in  the  wind : — 
See  !  he  looks  up  and  smiles  ; — for  death  to  him 
Is  happiness.     Yet  could  one  last  embrace 
Be  given,  'twere  still  a  sweeter  thing  to  die. 

It  will  be  given.     Look  !  how  the  rolling  ground, 

65  At  every  swell,  nearer  and  still  more  near 

Moves  towards  the  father's  outstretch'd  arm  his  boy  : — 
Once  he  has  touch'd  his  garment ; — how  his  eye 
Lightens  with  love — and  hope — and  anxious  fears. 
Ha !  see  !  he  has  him  now  ! — he  clasps  him  round — 

70  Kisses  his  face ; — puts  back  the  curling  locks, 
That  shaded  his  fine  brow  : — looks  in  his  eyes — 
Grasps  in  his  own  those  little  dimpled  hands — 
Then  folds  him  to  his  breast,  as  he  was  wont 
To  lie  when  sleeping — and  resign'd  awaits 

75  Undreaded  death. 

And  death  came  soon,  and  swift, 
And  pangless. 

The  huge  pile  sunk  down  at  once 
Into  the  opening  earth.     (  '  '  )  Walls — arches — roof — 

80  And  deep  foundation  stones — all . .  mingling  . .  fell ! 


EXERCISE   87. 
The  Orphan  Boy. — MRS.  OPIE. 

1  Stay,  lady — stay,  for  mercy's  sake  ! 

And  hear  a  helpless  orphan's  tale : 
Ah,  sure  my  looks  must  pity  wake — 

'Tis  want  that  makes  my  cheek  so  pale  ! 
Yet  I  was  once  a  mother's  pride, 

And  my  brave  father's  hope  and  joy : 
But  in  the  Nile's  proud  fight  he  died — 

And  I  am  now  an  orphan  boy  ! 

• 

2  Poor,  foolish  child !  how  pleased  was  I 

When  news  of  Nelson's  victory  came, 
Along  the  crowded  streets  to  fly, 
To  see  the  lighted  windows  flame ! 


•XBBCISKtf. PA*T    II.  [Kg.  87,  86. 

To  foil •••  n."  i."iiif  lii.ine  my  mother  sought — 

She  could  not  bear  to  see  107  j<>\, 
For  with  my  father*  lift  'twas  bought — 

And  made  »u  a  poor  orphan  boy  ! 

3  The  people's  shouts  were  long  and  loud  ! 

My  mother,  shuddering,  closed  her  ears ; 

"  Rejoice  !  rejoice  !"  still  cried  the  crowd — 

My  mother  an&wer'd  wiih  her  tears! 
"Oh  !  why  do  tears  steal  down  your  cheeks," 

Cried  I,  "  while  others  shout  for  j-»y  V" 
She  kiss'd  me,  and  in  accents  weak, 

She  call'd  me  her  poor  orphan  boy. 

4  "  What  is  an  orphan  boy  ?"  I  said ; 

Wlirii  suddenly  she  gasp'd  for  breath, 
And  her  eyes  closed  ;  1  sJiriek'd  for  aid  : — 

But,  ah !  her  eyes  were  closed  in  death  ! 
My  hardships  since  I  will  not  tell : 

But  now  no  more  a  parent's  joy ; 
Ah  !  lady,  I  have  learn 'd  too  well 

What  'tis  to  be  an  orphan  boy. 


EXERCISE  88. 
Christian  Consolation. — ANONYMOUS. 

[The  annexed  feeline  and  beautiful  lines,  are  said  to  have  been  written 
by  a  young  English  lady,  who  had  experienced  much  affliction.] 

1  Jesus — I  my  cross  have  taken, 

All  to  leave,  and  follow  thee, 
Naked,  poor,  despised,  forsaken — 

Thou,  from  hence,  my  all  shall  be ! 
Perish  erery  fond  ambition — 

All  I've  sought,  or  hoped,  or  known, 
V'  t  how  rich  is  my  condition — 

God  and  Heaven  arc  all  my  own ! 

2  Go,  thru,  earthly  fame  and  treasure — 

Come  disaster,  scorn,  and  pai« ; 
In  thy  service,  pain  is  plea.- 

i  thy  favor,  loss  is  gain  ; 
I  have  call'd  thee  Abba  Father — 

I  have  set  my  heart  on  thee ; 


Ex.  88,  89.]  EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  237 

Storms  may  howl,  and  clouds  may  gather — 
All  must  work  for  good  to  me ! 

3  Soul !  then  know  thy  full  salvation — 

Rise  o'er  sin,  and  fear,  and  care ; 
Joy  to  find  in  every  station 

Something  still  to  do  or  bear ! 
Think,  what  spirit  dwells  within  thee — 

Think  what  heavenly  bliss  is  thine  ; 
Think  that  Jesus  died  to  save  thee — 

Child  of  Heaven — canst  thou  repine  ? 

4  Haste  thee  on,  from  grace  to  glory, 

Arm'd  by  faith,  and  wing'd  by  prayer — 
Heaven's  eternal  day's  before  thee — 

God's  own  hand  shall  guide  thee  there. 
Soon  shall  close  thy  earthly  mission ! 

Soon  shall  pass  thy  pilgrim-days, 
Hope  shall  change  to  glad  fruition — 

Faith  to  sight,  and  prayer  to  praise. 


EXERCISE  89. 
Cruelty  to  Animals. — COWPER. 

I  would  not  enter  on  my  list  of  friends, 

(Though  graced  with  polished  manners  and  fine  sense, 

Yet  wanting  sensibility,}  the  man 

Who  needlessly  sets  foot  upon  a  worm. 
5  An  inadvertent  step  may  crush  the  snail, 

That  crawls  at  evening  in  the  public  path  ; 

But  he  that  has  humanity,  forewarn'd, 

Will  tread  aside,  and  let  the  reptile  live. 

The  creeping  vermin,  loathsome  to  the  sight, 
"10  And  charged  perhaps  with  venom,  that  intrudes 

A  visitor  unwelcome  into  scenes 

Sacred  to  neatness  and  repose,  th'  alcove, 

The  chamber,  or  refectory,  may  die. 

A  necessary  act  incurs  no  blame. 
15  Not  so,  when  held  within  their  proper  bounds 

And  guiltless  of  offence  they  range  the  air, 

Or  take  their  pastime  in  the  spacious  field. 


•XKRCISKS. PABT    II.  [Ex.  80,  !•<». 

There  they  are  pri\  \nd  he  that  hurts 

Or  harms  them  th-n-.  i-.^uilty  nf  a  wrong; 

20  Disturbs  the  economy  of  nature's  realm, 

Who  when  she  form'd,  di-si^ni-d  them  an  abod* 
The  sum  is  this :  if  man's  convenience,  health, 
Or  safety  interfere,  his  rights  and  claims 
Are  paramount,  nnd  must  extinguish  theirs. 

25  Else  they  are  all — the  meanest  things  that  are, 
As  free  to  live  and  to  enjoy  that  life, 
As  God  was  free  to  form  them  at  the  first, 
Who  in  his  sovereign  wisdom  made  them  all. 
Ye,  therefore,  who  love  mercy,  teach  your  som 

30  To  love  it  too.     The  spring-time  of  our  years 
Is  soon  dishonor'd  and  dcfil'd,  in  most 
By  budding  ills,  that  ask  a  prudent  hand 
To  check  them.     But  alas  !  none  sooner  shoots, 
If  unrestrain'd,  into  luxuriant  growth, 

35  Than  cruelty,  most  devilish  of  them  all. 
Mercy  to  him  that  shows  it,  is  the  rule 
And  righteous  limitation  of  its  act, 
By  which  Heav'n  moves,  in  pard'ning  guilty  man: 
And  he  that  shows  none,  being  ripe  in  years, 

40  And  conscious  of  the  outrage  he  commits, 
Shall  seek  it,  and  not  find  it  in  his  turn  ! 


EXERCISE  90. 

Christianity. — MASOX. 

The  cardinal  fact  of  Christianity,  without  which  all  her 
other  facts  lose  their  importance,  is  the  resurrection,  from 
the  dead,  of  a  crucified  Saviour,  as  the  {include,  the  pat- 
tern, and  the  pledge  of  the  resurrection  of  his  followers 
5  to  eternal  life.  A  ie  "children  <>f 

disobedience,"  have  leveled  their  batteries.  One  MMlb 
it*  proof;  another  its  reasonableness  ;  all.  its  truth.  Wh«  u 
Paul  asserted  it  before  nn  audienee  of  Athenian  phi !«-..- 
phere,  "some  mocked" — a  short  method  of  refuting  the 
10  Gospel  ;  and  likely,  from  its  convenience,  to  continue  in 
favor  and  in  fashion. 

Yet  with  such  doctrines  and  facts  did  the  religion  of 
Jesus  make  her  way  through  the  world.  Against  the 


Ex.  90.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  239 

superstition   of  the  multitude — against  the  interest,  in- 

15  fluence,  and  craft  of  their  priesthood — against  the  ridi- 
cule of  wits,  the  reasoning  of  sages,  the  policy  of  cabi- 
nets, and  the  prowess  of  armies — against  the  axe,  the 
cross,  and  the  stake,  she  extended  her  conquests  from 
Jordan  to  the  Thames.  She  gathered  her  laurels  alike 

20  upon  the  snows  of  Scythia,  the  green  fields  of  Europe, 
and  the  sands  of  Africa.  The  altars  of  impiety  crum- 
bled before  her  march — the  glimmer  of  the  schools  dis- 
appeared in  her  light — Power  felt  his  arm  wither  at  her 
glance ;  and,  in  a  short  time,  she  who  went,  forlorn  and 

25  insulted,  from  the  hill  of  Calvary  to  the  tomb  of  Joseph, 
ascended  the  Imperial  throne,  and  waved  her  banner 
over  the  palace  of  the  Ceesars.  Her  victories  were  not 
less  benign  than  decisive.  They  were  victories  over  all 
that  pollutes,  degrades,  and  ruins  man ;  in  behalf  of  all 

30  that  purifies,  exalts,  and  saves  him.  They  subdued  his 
understanding  to  truth,  his  habits  to  rectitude,  his  heart 
to  happiness. 

The  disregard  which^some  of  old  affected  to  whatever 
goes  by  the  name  of  evil ;  the  insensibility  of  others, 

35  who  yield  up  their  souls  to  the  power  of  fatalism ;  and 
the  artificial  gayety  which  has,  occasionally,  played  the 
comedian  about  the  dying  bed  of  "  philosophy,  falsely 
so  called,"  are  outrages  upon  decency  and  nature. — 
Death  destroys  both  action  and  enjoyment — mocks  at 

40  wisdom,  strength,  and  beauty — disarranges  our  plans — 
robs  us  of  our  treasures — desolates  our  bosoms — breaks 
our  heart-strings — blasts  our  hope.  Death  extinguishes 
the  glow  of  kindness — abolishes  the  most  tender  rela- 
tions of  man — severs  him  from  all  that  he  knows  and 

45  loves — subjects  him  to  an  ordeal  which  thousands  of  mil- 
lions have  passed,  but  none  can  explain ;  and  which 
will  be  as  new  to  the  last  who  gives  up  the  ghost,  as  it 
was  to  murdered  Abel — flings  him,  in  fine,  without  any 
avail  from  the  experience  of  others,  into  a  state  of  un- 

50  tried  being.  No  wonder  that  nature  trembles  before  it. 
Reason  justifies  the  fear.  Religion  never  makes  light  of 
it :  and  he  who  does,  instead  of  ranking  with  heroes,  can 
hardly  deserve  to  rank  with  a  brute. 

What  have  unbelievers  to  gild  their  evening  hour,  to 

55  bind  up  their  aching  head,  to  soothe  their  laboring 
heart  ?  What  living  hope  descends  from  heaven  to 


EXKRCI0BS. PART    II  |_K\.  iMJ.  !H. 

smile  on  the  sinking  features,  whisper  peace  to  the  re- 
tiring spirit,  and  announce  to  the  sad  surrounding  rela- 
tives that  all  is  well  .'  '1  here  is  none  I  AstoMSMMnt, 

60  dismay,  melancholy  boding,  are  the  "  portion  of  their 
cap."  Sit  down,  ye  unhappy,  in  the  desolation  of  grief. 
Consolation  heard  the  voice  of  your  weeping :  she  hast- 
ened to  y»ur  door,  but  started  back  affrighted  ;  her  com- 
mission extends  not  to  your  house  of  mourning ;  ye  have 

65  no  hope ! 

EXERCISE  91. 
Character  of  Mrs.   Graham. — MASOX. 

Recall  the  example  of  Mrs.  Graham.  Here  was  a 
woman — a  widow — a  stranger  in  a  strange  land — with- 
out fortune — wall  no  friends  but  such  as  her  letters  of 
introduction  and  her  worth  should  acquire — and  with  a 
5  family  of  daughters  dependent  upon  h--r  for  their  sub- 
sistence. Surely  if  any  one  has  a  clear  title  of  immunity 
from  the  obligation  to  carry  her  cares  beyond  the  domes- 
tic circle,  it  is  this  widow  ;  it  is  this  stranger.  Yet 
within  a  few  yeans  this  htranger,  this  widow,  with  no 

10  means  but  1  < DSC,  l..-r  beaevolent  heart,  and 

her  perttvcrin'j  will  to  do  good,  awakens  the  charities  of 
a  populous  city,  and  gives  to  them  an  impulse,  a  direc- 
tion, and  an  efficacy,  unknown  before  !  What  might  not 
be  done  by  tntm ; — by  men  of  talent,  of  standing,  of 

16  wealth,  of  leisure?  How  speedily,  under  their  well-di- 
rected beneficence,  might  a  whole  country  change  its 
physical,  intellectual,  and  moral  aspect ;  and  assume, 
comparatively  speaking,  the  face  of  another  Eden — a 
second  garden  of  God  .'  Why  then  do  they  not  diffuse, 

20  thus  extensively,  the  seeds  of  knowledge,  of  virtue,  and 
of  bliss  ?  I  ask  not  for  their  j>retenees  ;  they  are  as  old 
as  the  lust  of  lucre  ;  and  are  refuted  by  the  example 
which  we  have  been  contemplating — I  ask  for  the  true 
reason,  for  the  inspiring  principle  ot  their  conduct.  It  is 

25  this — let  them  look  to  it  when  God  shall  call  them  to  ac- 
count for  the  abuse  of  their  time,  their  talents,  their  sta- 
-tkm,  their  "  unrighteous  mammon." — It  is  this :  They 
believe  not  "  the  words  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  how  he  said, 
It  if  more  bleued  to  give  Utan  to  receive."  They  labor 

30  under  no  want  but  one — they  want  tAe  heart ! 


Kx.  91,  05i.J  EXERCISER. PAKX    II.  1^41 

That  venerable  mother  in  Israel,  who  has  exchanged 
the  service  of  God  on  earth  for  his  service  in  heaven, 
has  left  a  legacy  to  her  sisters — she  has  left  the  example 
of  her  faith  and  patience ;  she  has  left  her  prayers ;  she 

35  has  left  the  monument  of  her  Christian  deeds  :  and  by 
these,  she  "being  dead  yet  speaketh."  Matrons!  has 
she  left  her  mantle  also  ?  Are  there  none  among  you  to 
hear  her  voice  from  the  tomb,  "  Go,  and  do  thou  like- 
wise ?"  None  whom  affluence  permits,  endowments 

40  qualify,  and  piety  prompts,  to  aim  at  her  distinction  by 
treading  in  her  steps  ?  Maidens  !  Are  there  none  among 
you,  who  would  wish  to  array  yourselves  hereafter  in  the 
honors  of  this  "  virtuous  woman  ?"  Your  hearts  have 
dismissed  their  wonted  warmth  and  generosity,  if  they  do 

45  not  throb  as  the  revered  vision  rises  before  you — then 
prepare  yourselves  now,  by  seeking  and  serving  the  God 
of  her  youth. 

Yea,  let  me  press  upon  all  who  hear  me  this  evening, 
the  transcendent  excellence  of  Christian  character,  and 

50  the  victorious  power  of  Christian  hope.  The  former 
bears  the  image  of  God  ;  the  latter  is  as  imperishable  as 
his  throne.  We  fasten  our  eyes  with  more  real  respect, 
and  more  heart-felt  approbation,  upon  the  moral  majesty 
displayed  in  "  walking  as  Christ  also  walked,"  than 

55  upon  all  the  pomps  of  the  monarch,  or  decorations  of  the 
military  hero.  More  touching  to  the  sense,  and  more 
grateful  to  high  heaven,  is  the  soft  melancholy  with 
which  we  look  after  our  departed  friend,  and  the  tear 
which  embalms  her  memory,  than  the  thundering  plau- 

60  dits  which  rend  the  air  with  the  name  of  a  conqueror. 
She  has  obtained  a  triumph  over  that  Foe  who  shall 
break  the  arm  of  valor,  and  strike  off  the  crown  of 
kings.  > 


EXERCISE  92. 
Living  to   God. — GRIFFIN. 

The   heart-breaking   necessities  of   a.  world  ought  to 

rouse  us  from  our  selfish  stupor.     To  say  nothing  of  the 

multitudes  who  are  swarming  the  way  to  death  in  the 

most  favored  regions  ;  to  say  nothing  of  whole  nations 

5  in  the  Romish  and  Greek  Churches  who,  though  they 

11 


243  EXKKC1SKH. PART    II.  [Ex.  WX. 

bear  the  Christian  name,  are  apparently  living  without 
God  in  the  world  ;  to  say  nothing  of  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  nominal  Christians,  scattered  through  Asia  and 
Africa,  who  scarcely  retain  any  thing  of  Christianity  but 

10  the  name  ;  to  say  nothing  of  three  millions  of  Jews;  it 
is  a  distressing  truth,  that  more  than  two  tkirdt  of  the 
population  of  the  globe  are  'still  buried  under  Pagan  or 
Mahometan  darkness,  and  are  as  abominably  wicked  as 
sin  can  make  them. 

15  While  I  am  speaking  they  are  bursting  forth  to  meet 
their  doom.  It  certainly  has  become  the  duty  of  every 
person  in  a  Gospel  land  to  rack  his  invention,  to  devise 
•eans,  and  to  strain  the  lust  nerve  of  bis  strength,  to 
rescue  those  perishing  nations,  as  he  would  to  deliver 

20  his  family  from  a  burning  house.  O,  if  we  loved  those 
heathen  as  we  do  our  children  !  but  we  ought  to  love 
them  as  we  'love  ourselves.  Heretofore  we  knew  not 
how  it  was  possible  to  reach  them  ;  but  now  a  way  is 
opened  by  which  we  may  operate  upon  them,  with  as 

25  much  ease  as  though  they  lived  at  our  door.  If  we 
drop  a  dollar  into  the  American  Bible  Society,  it  will 
turn  to  a  Bible,  and  find  its  way  to  India,  and  will  travel 
while  we  sleep.  If  we  deposit  another,  it  will  become  a 
Bible  and  make  its  way  to  South  America,  without  post- 
90  age  or  risk.  Thus  God  has  opened  a  door  by  which  we 
may  pour  upon  the  heathen  the  blessings  of  the  Gospel 
as  fast  as  we  please,  and  need  not  be  bounded  by  any 
other  limit  than  our  ability  and  inclination.  One  Bible 
will  shed  upon  a  benighted  family  a  light  which  will  ra- 

35  diate  through  a  neighborhood,  and  descend  from  gene- 
ration to  generation.  And  who  is  too  poor  to  give  a 
Bible  ?  It  has  been  computed  by  those  who  have  passed 
through  our  country,  to. search  out  its  wants,  that  no 
less  than  five  hundred  thousand  Bibles  are  wanted  in 

40  the  United  States,  to  furnish  each  family  with  one,  that 
each  man  may  have  a  Bible  to  lay  upon  his  dying  pil- 
low. Do  we  hear  this,  and  shall  we  sleep  ?  There 
ought  to  be  two  Bible  Societies,  one  of  males  and  the 
•  •tli-  il»«,  formed  in  every  town,  and  village,  and 

45  hamlet  in  America.  And  into  one  of  these  every  person 
but  actual  paupers  ought  to  come.  Kvcry  hand  in 
Christendom,  but  those  which  are  stretched  out  for 
alms,  ought  to  give  one  Bible  a  year,  till  the  wants  of  a 


Ex.  92.  93.]  EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  243 

world   are    supplied.     It   is  a  tax  which   the    God    of 

50  heaven  has  laid  upon  the  whole  population  of  Christian 
countries.  Let  the  laboring  poor  work  an  hour  longer 
each  day,  and  retrench  some  unnecessary  expenses,  and 
they  need  not  be  excluded  from  this  glorious  work  of 
regenerating  a  world.  But  the  coffers  of  the  rich — 

55  What  has  sealed  the  coffers  of  the  rich  ?  that  they 
should  roll  in  luxury  and  pave  the  way  to  their  thea- 
tres with  gold,  when  six  or  seven  hundred  millions  of 
sinners  are  without  a  Bible !  There  is  superfluous 
wealth  enough  in  a  few  of  our  cities  and  larger  towns  to 

60  convey  the  Gospel  in  a  short  time  to  every  family  on 
earth.  God  Almighty  open  their  hearts,  that  they  may 
pour  out  their  treasures  by  hundreds  and  by  thousands, 
till  the  earth  shall  be  full  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord 
as  the  waters  cover  the  sea. 

65  My  brethren,  let  us  no  longer  live  to  ourselves.  Let 
us  arise  and  put  our  hands  to  the  great  work  in  which 
the  nations  are  now  moving.  Wondrous  things  are 
taking  place  in  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe.  The  world 
is  waking  up  after  a  long  sleep,  and  is  teeming  with 

70  projects  and  efforts  to  extend  the  empire  of  truth  and 
happiness.  This  is  the  day  of  which  the  prophets  sung. 
Let  us  not  sleep  while  all  others  are  rousing  themselves 
to  action.  Let  every  soul  come  up  to  the  help  of  the 
Lord.  Let  not  one  be  left  behind.  He  that  has  abso- 

75  lutely  nothing  to  give,  let  him  pray.  Let  no  one  be  idle. 
This  is  a  great  day,  and  the  Lord  requires  every  hand  in 
the  work. 


EXERCISE  93. 
Plea  for  Africa. — GRIFEIN. 

It  can  no  longer  be  made  a  question  whether  the  ele- 
vation of  the  African  race  is  a  part  of  the  new  order  of 
things.  The  providence  of  God  has  declared  it.  The 
Almighty  Deliverer  is  already  on  his  march  to  relieve  the 
woes  of  Africa.  Her  resurrection  is  already  stamped  with 
the  broad  seal  of  heaven.  Let  all  the  nations  behold  the 
sign,  and  bow  to  the  mandate  of  God. 

Ethiopia  shall  stretch  out  her  hands  to  God.      Let 


244  KXKRC18KK. FART    li.  [Ex 

cruel  and  unbelieving  minds  raise  up  as  many  jeers  and 

10  objections  as  they  may,  the  thing  will  proceed,  "  fur  the 
mouth  uf  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it." 

\Vr  liave  now  arrived  at  the  c..n ••liisi-m  that  a  brighter 
day  is  arising  on  Africa.  Already  I  seem  to  nee  her  chains 
dissolved, — her  desert  plains  turned  into  a  fruitful  field, — 

15  her  Congo  and  her  Senegal  the  seats  of  science  and  relig- 
ion, reflecting  the  glory  of  the  rising  sun  from  the  spires 
of  their  churches  and  uni\  i-r.Mties. — her  Gambia  and  Niger 
whitened  with  her  floating  commerce,  her  crowded  cities 
sending  forth  the  hum  of  business, — her  poets  and  orators 

20  standing  on  the  same  shelf  with  Milton  and  Burke, — and 
all  her  sons  employed  in  the  songs  of  salvation.  And 
when  that  day  shall  come,  1  am  sure  posterity  will  see  the 
names  of  Clarkson,  Sharp,  Wilberforce,  Thornton,  and 
Oregoire,  recorded  on  the  cities  and  monuments  of  a 

25  grateful  continent. 

We  come  to  you  this  evening  with  our  hands  stretched 
out  in  supplication  for  Africa,  which,  though  dark  her 
skin,  is  one  of  our  own  mother's  children.  We  beseech 
you  by  that  mercy  which  you  hope  to  find,  that  you 

SO  do  not  reject  our  suit.  We  beseech  you  by  the  tear* 
which  were  once  shed  for  you,  that  you  aid  us  in  wiping 
the  tears  of  an  oppressed  race.  1  have  no  intention 
to  practise  on  your  feelings.  I  know  too  well  the  piety 
and  liberality  of  this  metropolis.  I  only  wish  to  spread 

35  the  object  before  you  in  its  own  native  forms, — to  lay 
open  every  wounded  and  aching  part.  I  am  sorry  that 
I  have  not  been  able  to  do  this  with  more  success. 
Your  goodness  will  supply  the  rest.  You  will  furnish 
the  Synod  with  means  to  prosecute  their  benevolent  de- 

40  signs. 

Beloved  brethren,  to  live  in  such  a  world  and  age  as 
this,  brings  with  it  immense  obligations; — the  world  of 
all  others  which  tin-  Son  nf  God  redeemed  with  blood; 
— the  age  selected  from  all  ages  to  be  the  season  of  his 

45  highest  uiumph  and  reward  ; — the  spot  and  time,  among 

all  worhjp  and  J>eriod«,  most  interesting  to  the  eyes  of 

heaven.     JHflKftt  '"  such  a  day,  is  a  j>n\  !!••_'••   which 

kings  and  prophets  desired,  but  were  not  permitted  to 

er   the  servants  of  God  were   "a  flame  of 

50  fire,  this  is  the  time  to  exhibit  themselves  such.  You 
stand,  my  beloved  brethren,  under  an  opening  heaven. 


Ex.  93,  94.]  EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  245 

You  stand  by  the  tomb  of  a  world  rising  from  death. 
Be  not  stupid  in  such  a  day.  Be  ftot  half  awake.  Let 
your  soul  stand  erect,  looking  out  for  the  approaching 

55  God.  Let  every  nerve  be  strung  to  action.  Great  is 
the  human  effort  which  the  day  calls  for ;  great  will  be 
the  triumph  which  faith  and  patience  will  achieve.  It  is 
but  "  a  little  while,  and  he  that  shall  come,  will  come  and 
will  not  tarry."  For  my  part,  I  would  rather  be  one  to 

60  follow  the  wheels  of  his  victorious  chariot,  than  to  enjoy 
the  triumphs  of  a  Caesar.  Let  a  prostrate  world  prepare 
to  sing,  "  Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David !  blessed  is  he 
that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord :  hosanna  in  the 
highest!" 

EXERCISE  94. 
Abolition  of  the  Slave  Trade. — CHRISTIAN  OBSERVER. 

1  Woe  to  the  land,  whose  wealth  proclaims 

Another  land's  undoing ; 
Whose  trophied  column  rises  high, 

On  robbery  and  ruin. 
Britannia  saw,  with  deep  disdain, 
The  foul  reproach,  the  coward  stain. 

The  characters  of  blood  ; 
She  saw,  and  swept  her  shame  away, 
While  shouting  round,  in  thick  array, 

Her  patriot  champions  stood. 

2  Proud  was  the  morn  whose  early  beams 

Saw  Pitt  and  Fox  uniting, 
And  side  by  side,  in  holy  band, 

Their  country's  battle  fighting. 
Oh  !  if  their  spirits  hover  nigh, 
How  shall  they  hail  with  rapture  high, 

This  day's  revolving  sun ; 
And  hear  our  songs  of  triumph  tell, 
The  prize,  for  which  they  fought  so  well, 

The  virtuous  prize,  is  won! 

3  Let  France  of  prostrate  Europe  tell, 

Exulting  in  her  story  ; 
The  usurper  shall  unenvied  stretch 
The  reign  of  guilty  glory. 


240  ME*CI8Ea. FART  II.  [E*.  94.  95. 

Hit  be  the  chaplet  dropping  gdre, 
And  his  the  rod  plume,  waving  o'er 

A  bleeding  people's  woe. 
Scourge  of  the  North,  the  South,  the  West! 
The  World,  that  bows  at  thy  behest, 

The  World  is  still  thy  foe. 

4  But  thte,  fair  Daughter  of  the  Seas, 

Are  brighter  days  attending, 
And  olive  wreaths,  with  myrtle  twined, 

Around  thy  scepter  blending. 
Though  doom'd  perchance  awhile  to  bear 
Thy  blazing  aegis  high  in  air; 

Beneath  that  ample  shade, 
Shall  Europe's  exiled  virtue  throng, 
And  Africa,  redeem'd  from  wrong, 

Adore  thy  guardian  aid. 

5  So  shalt  thou  rest,  through  rolling  years, 

Secure  in  Heaven's  alliance, 
And  to  a  thousand  circling  foes 

Breathe  out  a  bold  defiance. 
Her  eagle  wing  shall  Victory  wave, 
Around  the  arm  that  strikes  to  save  ; 

And  Earth  applauding,  see 
The  friend  of  every  friendless  name, 
Foremost  in  blfss,  and  strength,  and  fame, 

The  Friend  of  Freedom,  free  ! 


EXERCISE  95. 

Eliza, — DARWIN  . 

Now  stood  Eliza,  on  the  wood-crown'd  hight, 
O'er  Minden's  plain,  spi>rt:itrf-s  of  the  fight. 
Sought,  with  bold  eye,  amid  the  bloody  strife. 
Her  dearer  self,  th<-  partner  of  IHT  life ; 
5  From  hill  to  hill  th<*  ni>hiny  host  pursued. 
And  view'd  his  banner,  or,  believed  she  view'd. 
Pleased  with  the  distant  roar,  with  quicker  tread 
Fast  by  his  hand,  one  lisping  boy  she  led ; 
And  one  fair  girl,  amid  the  loud  alarm, 
10  Slept  on  her  kerchief,  cradled  by  her  arm  ; 


Ex.  95.]  EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  247 

While  round  her  brows  bright  beams  of  honor  dart, 
And  love's  warm  eddies  circle  round  her  heart. 
— Near,  and  more  near,  the  intrepid  beauty  press'd, 
Saw,  through  the  driving  smoke,  his  dancing  crest ; 

1 5  Heard  the  exulting  shout,  "  They  run  !  they  run  /" 
"  Great  God  !"  she  cried,  "  he's  safe !  the  battle's  won. 
— A  ball  now  hisses  through  the  airy  tides, 
(Some  Fury  speeds  it,  and  some  demon  guides  !) 
Parts  the  tine  locks,  her  graceful  head  that  deck, 

20  Wounds  her  fair  ear,  and  sinks  into  her  neck ; 
The  red  stream  issuing  from  her  azure  veins, 
Dyes  her  white  veil,  her  ivory  bosom  stains. — 
— "  Ah,  me  !"  she  cried,  (and,  sinking  on  the  ground, 
"  Kiss'd  her  dear  babes,  regardless  of  the  wound  ;) 

25  "  Oh,  cease  not  yet  to  beat,  thou  vital  uvn ! 
"  Wait,  gushing  life,  oh,  wait  my  love's  return  ! 
"  Hoarse  barks  the  wolf,  the  vulture  screams  from  far ! 
"  The  angel,  Pity,  shuns  the  walks  of  war ! — 
"  Oh,  spare,  ye  war-hounds,  spare  their  tender  age  ! — 

30  "  On  me,  on  me,"  she  cried,  "  exhaust  your  rage  !" 
Then  with  weak  arms,  her  weeping  babes  caress'd, 
And,  sighing,  hid  them  in  her  blood-stain'd  vest. 

From  tent  to  tent  the  impatient  warrior  flies, 
(Fear  in  his  heart,  and  frenzy  in  his  eyes :) 

35  Eliza's  name  along  the  camp  he  calls, 
Eliza  !  echoes  through  the  canvas  walls  ; 
Quick  through  the  murmuring  gloom,  his  footsteps  tread 
O'er  groaning  heaps,  the  dying  and  the  dead, 
Vault  o'er  the  plain,  and,  in  the  tangled  wood, — 

40  Lo  !  dead  Eliza,  weltering  in  her  blood  ! 

— Soon  hears  his  listening  son  the  welcome  sounds, 
With  open  arms  and  sparkling  eyes  he  bounds. — 
"  Speak  low,"  he  cries,  and  gives  his  little  hand, 
"  Eliza  sleeps,  upon  the  dew-cold  sand." 

45  Poor  weeping  babe,  with  bloody  fingers  press'd, 
And  tried,  with  pouting  lips,  her  milkless  breast. 
"  Alas  !  we  both  with  cold  and  hunger  quake — 
"  Why  do  you  weep  ? — Mamma  will  soon  awake." 
— "  She'll  wake  no  more  !"  the  hopeless  mourner  cried, 

50  Upturn'd  his  eyes,  and  clasp'd  his  hands,  and  sigh'd : 
Stretch'd  on  the  ground  awhile  entranced  he  lay, 
And  press'd  warm  kisses  on  the  lifeless  clay ; 


248  KXtiftCJSKS. PART  II.  [£.T.  (Mfc 

And  then  upspruiw,  with  wild,  convulsive  start, 

1  all  \.\\f  father  kiiid!«-d  in  his  heart: 

S5   "  <  >.  IK  ;i\ens  !"  he  cri«-d.  ••  my  first  rash  vow  forgive  ! 
"  These  bind  to  earth,  for  thete  I  pray  to  live  !" 
Round  his  chill  babes  he  wrapp'd  his  rrimson  vest, 
And  clasp'd  them,  sobbing,  to  his  aching  breast. 


i:\ERCISE  9«. 
Character  of  Mr.  Brougham. — ANONYMOUS. 

Brougham  is  a  thunderbolt.  He  may  come  in  the 
dark,  he  may  come  at  random,  his  path  may  be  in  the 
viewless  and  graspless  air ;  but  still,  give  him  something 
solid,  let  him  come  in  contact  with  the  earth,  and,  be  it 
5  beautiful  or  barren,  it  feels  the  power  of  his  terrible  visi- 
tation. You  see  not,  or  rather  you  heed  not,  the  agent 
which  works ;  but,  just  as  when  the  arch-giant  of  physical 
destroyers  rends  his  way,  you  see  the  kingdoms  of  nature 
yielding  at  his  approach,  and  the  mightiest  of  their  pro- 

10  due tions  brushed  aside  as  though  they  were  dust,  or  torn 
as  though  they  were  gossamer. 

While  he  raises  his  voice  in  the  House — while  he 
builds  firmly  and  broadly  the  bases  of  his  own  proposi- 
tions, and  snatches  from  every  science  a  beam  to  enlarge 

10  and  strengthen  his  work;  and  while  he  indignantly  beats 
down  and  tramples  upon  all  that  has  been  reared  by  his 
antagonist,  you  feel  as  if  the  wind  of  annihilation  were  in 
his  hand,  and  the  power  of  destruction  in  his  possession. 

20  There  cannot  be  a  greater  treat  than  to  hear  Brougham 
upon  one  of  those  questions  which  give  scope  for  the 
mighty  swell  of  his  mind,  and  which  permit  him  to 
launch  the  bolts  of  that  tremendous  sarcasm,  for  which 
he  has  not  now,  and  perhaps  never  had,  an  equal  in  the 

25  lions.-.  \\Ix-n  his  display  i-  a  reply.  y<>u  see  his  long  and 
lathy  figure  drawn  aside  from  others,  and  coiled  up  within 
itself  like  a  snake,  and  his  eyes  glancing  from  under  the 
sloi  v  and  as  fatal  as  those  of  the 

has  i  mark  the  twin  demons  of  irony  and  con- 

30  tempt,  playing  about  the  tense  and  compressed  line  of 
his  mouth. 

Up  rises  the  orator,  slowly  and  clumsily.  His  body, 
swttng  into  an  attitude  which  is  none  r»f  the  most  grace- 


EX.  96.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  249 

ful.     His  long  and  sallow  visage  seems  lenthened  and 

35  deepened  in  its  hue.  His  eyes,  his  nose,  and  mouth 
seem  huddled  together,  as  if,  while  he  presses  every 
illustration  into  his  speech,  he  were  at  the  same  time 
condensing  all  his  senses  into  one.  There  is  a  lowering 
sublimity  in  his  brows,  which  one  seldom  sees  equalled  ; 

40  and  the  obliquity  of  the  light  shows  the  organization  of 
the  upper  and  lateral  parts  of  his  forehead,  proud  and 
palpable  as  the  hills  of  his  native  north.  His  left  hand 
is  extended  with  the  palm,  prepared  as  an  anvil,  upon, 
which  he  is  ever  and  anon  to  hammer,  with  the  forefin- 

45  ger  of  his  right,  as  the  preparation  to  that  full  swing 
whioh  is  to  give  life  to  every  muscle,  and  motion  to  every 
limb.  He  speaks !  In  the  most  powerful  and  sustained, 
and  at  the  same  time,  the  most  close,  clear  and  logical 
manner,  does  he  demolish  the  castle  which  his  oppo- 

50  nent  had  built  for  himself.  You  hear  the  sounds,  you 
see  the  flash,  you  look  for  the  castle,  and  it  is  not. 
Stone  after  stone,  turret  after  turret,  battlement  after 
battlement,  and  wing  after  wing,  are  melted  away,  and 
nothing  left,  save  the  sure  foundation,  upon  which  the 

55  orator  himself  may  build.  There  are  no  political  bowels 
in  him.  He  gives  no  quarter,  and  no  sooner  has  he 
razed  the  fort,  than  he  turns  him  to  torture  the  garrison. 
It  is  now  that  his  mock  solemnity  is  something  more 
terrible  than  the  satire  of  Canning,  the  glow  of  Burdett, 

60  or  the  glory  of  Mackintosh.  His  features  (which  are 
always  grave)  assume  the  very  depth  of  solemnity ;  acd 
his  voice  (which  is  always  solemn)  falls  into  that  under 
soprano,  (that  visionary  tone  between  speech  and  whis- 
per,) which  men  employ  when  they  speak  of  their  own 

65  graves,  and  coffins.  You  would  imagine  it  not  audible, 
and  yet  its  lowest  syllable  runs  through  the  House  like 
wild-fire.  You  would  think  it  meant  only  for  the  ear  of 
him  who  is  the  subject  of  it,  yet  it  comes  immediately, 
and  powerfully,  and  without  the  possibility  of  being  for- 

70  gotten,  to  every  one  within  the  walls.  You  would  think 
it  the  fond  admonition  of  a  sainted  father  to  the  errors 
of  a  beloved  son ;  and  yet,  it  has  in  reality  more  of  that 
feeling  which  the  Devil  is  said  to  exercise,  when  he  acts 
as  the  accuser  of  the  brethren. — You  may  push  aside 

75  the  bright  thing  which  raises  a  laugh ;  you  may  find  a 
cover  from  the  wit  which  ambles  to  you  on  antithesis, 
11* 


250  BXE1CISB8. PAtT    II.  [El.  96, 97. 

or  quotation ;  but,  against  the  home  reproof  of  Brougham 
there  U  no  defence ;  ita  course  it  so  firm  thnt  you  cannot 
dash  it  aside. 


EXERCISE  97. 
Character  of  Mr.  Wilbcrforc*. — 

The  speeches  of  Mr.  Wilberforce,  are  among  the  very 
few  good  things  now  remaining  in  ih«-  IJritish  Parliament: 
bis  diction  is  elegant,  rich,  and  spirited  ;  his  tones  are 
so  distinct  and  so  melodious,  that  the  most  hostile  ear 
5  hangs  on  them  delighted.  Then  his  address  is  so  insin- 
uating, that  if  he  talked  nonsense,  you  would  feel  yourself 
obliged  to  hear  him.  1  recollect  when  the  House  had 
been  tired  night  after  night,  with  discussing  the  end- 
less questions  relating  to  Indian  Policy,  when  the  com- 

10  merce  and  finances  and  resources  of  our  oriental  empire 
had  exhausted  the  lungs  of  ail  the  speakers,  and  the 
patience  of  all  the  auditors — at  that  period,  Mr.  Wilber- 
force, with  a  just  confidence  in  his  powers,  ventured 
to  broach  the  hackneyed  subject  of  Hindoo  conversion. 

15  He  spoke  three  hours,  but  nobody  seemed  fatigued : 
all,  indeed,  were  pleased ;  some  with  the  ingenious 
artifices  of  his  manner,  but  most  with  the  glowing 
language  of  his  heart.  Much  as  I  differed  from  him  in 
opinion,  it  was  impossible  not  to  be  delighted  with  his 

20  eloquence :  and  though  I  wish  most  heartily  that  the 
Hindoos  might  be  left  to  their  own  trinity,  yet  I  felt 
disposed  to  agree  with  him,  that  some  good  must  arise 
to  the  human  mind,  by  being  engaged  in  a  controversy 
which  will  exercise  most  of  its  faculties.  Mr.  Wilber- 

25  force  is  now  verging  towards  age,*  and  speaks  but  sel- 
dom ;  he,  however,  never  speaks  without  exciting  a  wish 
that  he  would  say  more ;  he  maintains,  like  Mr.  tt rattan, 
great  respectability  of  character,  by  disdaining  to  mix  in 
the  daily  paltry  squabbles  of  party :  he  is  no  hunter  ift<r 

30  place.    '  * 

1  confess  I  always  look  with  equal  respect  and  pleasure 
on  this  eloquent  veteran,  lingering  among  his  ' 


Written  in  1814  or  1815 


Ex.  97,  98.]          EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  251 

but  far  inferior  posterity  ;  and  well  has  he  a  right  to 
linger  on  the  spot  where  he  achieved  one  of  the  greatest 

35  laurels  that  ever  brightened  in  the  wreath  of  fame:  a 
laurel  better  than  that  of  the  hero,  as  it  is  not  stained 
with  blood  or  tears :  better  even  than  that  of  the  states- 
man who  improves  the  civilization  of  his  country,  inas- 
much as  to  create,  is  better  than  to  improve.  And  the 

40  man  whose  labors  abolished  the  Slave  Trade,  at  one 
blow  struck  away  the  barbarism  of  a  hundred  nations, 
and  elevated  myriads  of  human  beings,  degraded  to  the 
brute,  into  all  the  dignified  capacities  of  civilized  man. 
To  have  done  this  is  the  most  noble,  as  it  is  the  most 

45  useful  work,  which  any  individual  could  accomplish. 


EXERCISE  98. 
Eulogium  on  Mr.  Fox. — SHERIDAN. 

Upon  the  one  great  subject,  which,  at  this  moment,  I 

am   confident  has   possession  of  the  whole  feelings  of 

every  man  whom  I  address — the  loss,  the  irreparable  loss, 

of  the   great,  the  illustrious  character,  whom  we  all  de- 

5  plore — I  shall,  I  can  say  but  little.          *         *         * 

He  died  in  the  spirit  of  peace  ;  tranquil  in  his  own  ex- 
piring heart,  and  cherishing  to  the  last,  with  a  parental  so- 
licitude, the  consoling  hope  that  he  should  be  able  to  give 
established  tranquillity  to  harassed,  contending  nations. 

10  Let  us  trust,  that  the  stroke  of  death  which  has  borne  him 
from  us,  may  not  have  left  the  peace  of  the  world,  and 
the  civilized  charities  of  man,  as  orphans  upon  the  earth. 
With  such  a  man,  to  have  battled  in  the  cause  of  genuine 
liberty — with  such  a  man,  to  have  struggled  against 

15  the  inroads  of  oppression  and  corruption — with  such 
an  example  before  me,  to  have  to  boast  that  I  never  in 
my  life  gave  one  vote  in  Parliament  that  was  not  on  the 
side  of  freedom,  is  the  congratulation  that  attends  the 
retrospect  of  my  public  life.  His  friendship  was  the 

20  pride  and  honor  of  my  days.  I  never,  for  one  moment, 
regretted  to  share  with  him  the  difficulties,  the  calum- 
nies, and  sometimes  even  the  dangers,  that  attended  his 
honorable  life.  And  now  reviewing  my  past  political 
conduct,  were  the  option  possible,  that  I  should  retread 

25  the  path,  I   solemnly  and   deliberately  declare,  that  I 


33S  BXBMMM. TAUT    U.  [Rx.9g»99 

would  pursue  the  tame  course — hear  up  under  the  some 
pressure — abide  by  the  same  principles — and  remain  by 
his  .-idi',  an  t-xile  from  power,  distinction,  and  emolument. 
If  1  have  missed  the  opportunity,  of  obtaining  all  UK- 

30  support,  I  mijit.  f-rhaps.  have  had,  on  the  present  oc- 
casion, from  a  very  scrupulous  delicacy,  which  I  think 
teeamt,  and  was  incumbent  upon  me — I  cannot  repent  it. 
la  so  doing,  I  acted  on  the  feelings  upon  which  I  am 
sensible  all  those  would  have  acted  who  loved  Mr.  F<>\ 

35  as  1  did.  I  felt  within  myself,  that  while  the  slightest 
aspirations  might  still  quiver  on  those  lips,  that  were  the 
copious  channels  of  eloquence,  wisdom,  and  benevo- 
lence— that  while  one  drop  <»f  life's  blood  might  still 
warm  that  heart,  which  throbbed  only  for  the  pood  of 

40  mankind — I  should  not,  1  tould  not  have  acted  other- 
wise. 

Gentlemen ;  the  hour  is  not  far  distant,  when  an  nwful 
knell  shall  tell  you,  that  the  unburied  remains  of  your  re- 
vered patriot  are  passing  through  your  streets,  to  that 

46  sepulchral  home  where  your  kings — your  heroes — your 
sages — and  your  poets,  will  be  honored  by  an  association 
with  hit  mortal  r«-maiti>.  At  that  hour  when  the  sad  so- 
lemnity shall  take  place,  in  a  privat<-  way,  as  more  suited 
to  the  simple  dignity  <>t  his  rhnracter,  than  the  splendid 

50  gaudiness  of  public  pageantry  ;  when  you,  all  of  you, 
shall  be  self-marshaled  in  reverential  sorrow — mute,  and 
reflecting  on  your  mighty  loss — at  that  moment  shall  the 
disgusting  contest  of  an  election-wrangle  break  the  so- 
lemnity of  such  a  scene  ?  Is  it  fitting  that  any  man 

06  should  overlook  the  crisis,  and  risk  the  monstrous  and 
disgusting  contest?  Is  it  fitting  that  I  should  be  that 
•urn? 


EXERCISE   99. 
Death  of  Sheridan. — Brno*. 

flash  of  wit — the  bright  intelligence, 
The  beam  of  song — the  maze  of  eloquence, 
Bet  with  their  sun— but  still  have  left  behind 
The  enduring  produce  of  immortal  mind  ; 
0  Kruita  of  a  genial  mom,  and  glorious  noon, 
A  deathless  part  nf  him  wh"  died  too  soon. 


Ex.  99.]  EXERCISES. PART  II.  253 

But  small  that  portion  of  the  wondrous  whole, 

These  sparkling  segments  of  that  circling  soul, 

Which  all  embraced — and  lighteu'd  over  all, 
10  To  cheer — to  pierce — to  please — or  to  appal: 

From  the  charm'd  council  to  the  festive  board, 

Of  human  feelings  the  unbounded  lord  ; 

In  whose  acclaim  the  loftiest  voices  vied, 

The  praised — the  proud — who  made  his  praise  their  pride. 
15  When  the  loud  cry  of  trampled  Hindostan 

Arose  to  Heaven  in  her  appeal  from  man, 

His  was  the  thunder — his  the  avenging  rod, 

The  wrath — the  delegated  voice  of  God  ! 

Which  shook  the  nations  through  his  lips — and  blazed 
20  Till  vanquished  senates  trembled  as  they  praised. 

And  here,  oh !  here,  where  yet  all  young  and  warm, 
The  gay  creations  of  his  spirit  charm, 
The  matchless  dialogue — the  deathless  wit, 
Which  knew  not  what  it  was  to  intermit ; 

25  The  glowing  portraits,  fresh  from  life,  that  bring 

Home  to  our  hearts  the  truth  from  which  they  spring ; 

These  wondrous  beings  of  his  fancy,  wrought 

To  fullness  by  the  fiat  of  his  thought, 

Here  in  their  first  abode,  you  still  may  meet, 

30  Bright  with  the  hues  of  his  Promethean  heat ; 
A  halo  of  the  light  of  other  days, 
Which  still  the  splendor  of  its  orb  betrays. 

Ye  orators !  whom  yet  our  councils  yield, 
Mourn  for  the  veteran  hero  of  your  field  ! 

35  The  worthy  rival  of  the  wondrous  three  !* 
Whose  words  were  sparks  of  immortality  ! 
Ye  Bards,  to  whom  the  Drama's  Muse  is  dear, 
He  was  your  master — emulate  him  here  ! 
Ye  men  of  wit  and  social  eloquence  ! 

40  He  was  your  brother — bear  his  ashes  hence ! 
While  powers  of  mind  almost  of  boundless  range, 
Complete  in  kind — as  various  in  their  change ; 
While  eloquence — wit — poesy — and  mirth, 
(That  humbler  harmonist  of  care  on  earth,) 

45  Survive  within  our  souls — while  lives  our  sense 
Of  pride  in  merit's  proud  pre-eminence, 

*  Pitt,  Fox,  and  Burke. 


254  KXEHC1SKX. PABT    II.  [Ex.  99,   100. 

Long  shall  we  >••« -k  Ls  likeness — long  in  vain, 
And  turn  to  all  of  him  which  may  remain. 
Sighing  that  nature  foriard  Imt  one  such  man, 
50  And  broke  the  die — in  moulding  SHERIDAN  ! 


BXERI  18E  100. 
The  last  family  of  Eastern  Greenland. — MONTGOMERY. 

In  the  cold  sunshine  of  yon  narrow  dell, 
Affection  lingers  ;  there  two  lovers  dwell, 
Greenland's  whole  family  ;  nor  long  forlorn, 
There  comes  a  visitant ;  a  babe  is  born. 
6  O'er  his  meek  helplessness  the  parents  smiled  ; 
Twas  hope  : — for  hope  is  every  mother's  child. 
Then  seemed  they  in  that  world  of  solitude, 
The  Eve  and  Adam  of  :i  race  renew'd. 
Brief  happiness !  too  perilous  to  last ; 

10  The  moon  hath  wax'd  and  waned,  and  all  is  pact. 
Itt-hnld  the  end  ! — oat-  morn  athwart  the  wall, 
They  marked  the  shadow  of  a  reindeer  fall, 
Bounding  in  tameless  freedom  o'er  the  snow ; 
The  father  track'd  him,  and  with  fatal  bow 

15  Smote  down  the  victim  ;  but,  before  his  eyes, 
A  rabid  she-bear  pounced  upon  the  prize  ; 
A  shaft  into  the  spoiler's  flank  he  seat, 
She  turn'd  in  wrath,  and  limb  from  limb  had  rent 
The  hunter ;  but  his  dagger's  plunging  steel, 

20  With  riven  bosom  made  the  monster  reel ; 
Unvanquish'd,  both  to  closer  combat  flew, 
Assailants  each,  till  each  the  other  slew  ; 
Mm.;!.;,.:  tlicjr  blood  from  mutual  wound*  they  lay, 
!  on  the  carcass  of  their  antler'd  prey. 

25       Meanwhile  his  partner  waits,  her  heart  at  rest, 

inir-l'-a  hut  her  iut'.uit  <>n  her  breast; 
With  him  she  slumbers,  or  with  him  she  plays, 
And  tells  him  all  her  iln-nns  of  future  days, 
Asks  him  a  thousand  ijue.stiooft,  feigns  replies, 
\nd  reads  whate'er  she  wishes  in  his  eyes. 
— Red  evening  comes  ;  BO  kmthauTt  shadow  falls 
Where  fell  the  reindeer's,  o'er  the  latticed  walls ; 
'Tn  night !  no  footstep  sounds  towards  her  door : 


Ex.  100,  101.]      EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  255 

The  day  returns — but  he  returns  no  more. 
35  In  frenzy  forth  she  sallies,  and  with  cries, 

To  which  no  voice  except  her  own  replies, 

In  frightful  echoes,  startling  all  around, 

Where  human  voice  again  shall  never  sound, 

She  seeks  him,  finds  him  not ;  some  angel  guide 
40  In  mercy  turns  her  from  the  corpse  aside ; 

Perhaps  his  own  freed  spirit,  lingering  near, 

Who  waits  to  waft  her  to  a  happier  sphere, 

But  leads  her  first,  at  evening  to  their  cot, 

Where  lies  the  little  one,  all  day  forgot ; 
45  Imparadised  in  sleep,  she  finds  him  there, 

Kisses  his  cheek,  and  breathes  a  mother's  prayer. 

Three  days  she  languishes,  nor  can  she  shed 

One  tear  between  the  living  and  the  dead ; 

When  her  lost  spouse  comes  o'er  the  widow's  thought, 
50  The  pangs  of  memory  are  to  madness  wrought ; 

But,  when  her  suckling's  eager  lips  are  felt, 

Her  heart  would  fain — but  oh  !  it  cannot  melt ; 

At  length  it  breaks,  while  on  her  lap  he  lies, 

With  baby  wonder  gazing  in  her  eyes. 
55  Poor  orphan  !  mine  is  not  a  hand  to  trace 

Thy  little  story,  last  of  all  thy  race  ! 

Not  long  thy  sufferings  ;  cold  and  colder  grown, 

The  arms  that  clasp  thee,  chill  thy  limbs  to  stone. 

— 'Tis  done  : — from  Greenland's  coast  the  latest  sigh 
60  Bore  infant  innocence  beyond  the  sky. 


EXERCISE   101. 
The  City  and  the  Country. — M'DONNOUGH. 

The  arrival  of  the  two  mountaineers  was  not  long  in 
being  known  to  the  whole  household  in  May  Fair.     Lit- 
tle Mary  had  hoisted  the   tartan  in  less  time  than  the 
ordinary  tribe  of  ladies'  maids  could  easily  comprehend, 
5  and  having  hoisted  that,  she  descended  the  stairs  with 
more  rapidity  than  is  customary  with  even  that  light- 
footed  tribe.     The   shakings   by   the  hand,   the    "good 
graciouses  !  and  are  you  there  ?"  the  uninterrupted  inqui- 
ries, the  questions  answered  by  a  look,  and  the  ques- 
10  tions  so  rapid  as  not  to  admit  of  that  brief  response, 


'25ft  •XEKCteEfl. »AKT    II.  [Ex.    101. 

passed  like  the  shadow  of  a  cloud  upon  a  Highland  glen 
— like  the  ruffling  of  the  wind  upon  a  Highland  lake. 
The  castle,  the  loch,  the  river,  the  cliff — every  field,  every 
hill,  every  spot,  and  almost  every  hush,  hml  its  note  of 

1  •">  recollection,  and  its  tribute  of  praise. 

Tnere  is  something  exquisite  in  this — something  which 
the  inhabitants  of  thronged  cities,  cannot  appreciate. 
But  in  the  patriarchal  land  of  the  north,  there  is  or  there 
was,  ere  avarice  laid  it  waste,  or  the  Jove  of  money 

20  made  it  a  desolation — a  love  of  every  thing  that  was,  as 
well  as  of  every  thing  that  is.  The  same  ancient  stone 
which  sheltered  the  sire,  shelters  the  son  :  agninst  the 
tree  which  his  father  planted,  no  man  will  lift  up  an 
axe  ;  and  ihe  resting-place  of  the  departed  is  sacred  as 

25  long  as  life  warms  a  heart,  which  wms  present  when 
they  were  laid  in  the  dust.  In  R  great  city,  man,  de- 
pendent on  his  own  exertions,  following  the  bent  of 
his  own  passions  or  appetites,  and  reckless  of  every 
gratification  but  those  of  him*df\  is  disjointed  from  man. 

30  The  tenants  of  the  same  roof,  know  m»t  the  names  of 
each  other,  and  to  be  parted  by  one  paltry  brick,  makes 
a  separation  as  complete,  as  though  they  dwelt  at  the  an- 
tipodes. Not  only  is  man  disjointed  from  man,  but  age 
is  disjointed  from  age.  The  people  \\\\n  inhabit  a  street 

85  or  a  square,  now  know  nothing  and  car,  nothing  about 
those  who  inhabited  it  immediately  before;  mnd  their 
brief  memorial  will  be  as  quickly  blotted  out  by  the  per- 
sons whom  chance  may  afterwards  place  in  the  same 
situation.  Thus,  while  the  great  city  brings  the  bodies 

40  of  men  together,  it  scatters  their  minds,  breaks  all  the 
ties  and  links  of  Bympathetir  society,  and  piles  up  its 
tens  and  hundreds  of  thousands,  (to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses of  deep  feeling  and  delightful  intercourse,)  like 
the  cold.  hard,  unadherini:  and  mu-nnnected  particl- 

45  a  mountain  <>f  sand,  which  the  wind  of  whim,  or  chance, 

•  »mmerce,  may  whisk    about  just  as  the  sand  parti- 

cles  by  the  Red  Sea  are  whisked  about  on  the  wings  of 

the  deadly  sarniel.      lu  the   retirement  of  the   country, 

and   especially  in   that   country  from   which  our  humble 

50  visitors  have  come,  and  to  which  our  lovely  heroine  is 
looking,  it  is  not  so.  There  man  !>•  united  to  man,  and 
«ge  i*  linked  with  age.  in  the  closest  ties  of  friendship. 
the  moat  delightful  bonds  of  sympathy,  the  most  touching 


Ex.  101,  102.]       EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  257 

reminiscences  of  sorrow,  and  the  fondest  anticipations 
60  of  hope.  If  a  man  would  eat,  drink,  die,  and  be  forgot- 
ten, let  his  dwelling-place  be  in  the  city  :  if  he  would  live, 
love,  and  be  remembered,  let  him  speed  him  to  the  glens 
of  the  mountains. 


EXERCISE  102. 
Summary  Punishment. — WALTER  SCOTT. 

It  was  under  the  burning  influence  of  revenge  that 
the  wife  of  MacGregor  commanded  that  the  hostage  ex- 
changed for  her  husband's  safety  should  be  brought  into 
her  presence.  I  believe  her  sons  had  kept  this  unfortu- 
5  nate  wretch  out  of  her  sight,  for  fear  of  the  consequences  ; 
but  if  it  was  so,  their  humane  precaution  only  postponed 
his  fate.  They  dragged  forward  at  her  summons  a  wretch 
already  half  dead  with  terror,  in  whose  agonized  features 
I  recognized,  to  my  horror  and  astonishment,  my  old  ac- 

10  quaint  ance  Morris. 

He  fell  prostrate  before  the  female  chief,  with  an  ef- 
fort to  clasp  her  knees,  from  which  she  drew  back,  as  if 
his  touch  had  been  pollution,  so  that  all  he  could  do  in 
token  of  the  extremity  of  his  humiliation,  was  to  kiss 

15  the  hem  of  her  plaid.  I  never  heard  entreaties  for  life 
poured  forth  with  such  agony  of  spirit.  The  ecstasy  of 
fear  was  such,  that  instead  of  paralyzing  his  tongue,  as 
on  ordinary  occasions,  it  even  rendered  him  eloquent ; 
and,  with  cheeks  as  pale  as  ashes,  hands  compressed  in 

20  agony,  eyes  that  seemed  to  be  taking  their  last  look  of 
all  mortal  objects,  he  prayed  but  for  life — for  life  he 
'would  give  all  he  had  in  the  world : — it  was  but  life  he 
asked — life,  if  it  were  to  be  prolonged  under  tortures  and 
privations : — he  asked  only  breath,  though  it  should  be 

25  drawn  in  the  depths  of  the  lowest  caverns  of  their  hills. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  scorn,  the  loathing, 
and  contempt,  with  which  the  wife  of  MacGregor  re- 
garded this  wretched  petitioner  for  the  poor  boon  of  ex- 
istence. 

30  She  gave  a  brief  command  in  Gaelic  to  her  attendants, 
two  of  whom  seized  upon  the  prostrate  suppliant,  and 
hurried  him  to  the  brink  of  a  cliff  which  overhung  the 
flood.  He  set  up  the  most  piercing  and  dreadful  cries, 


258  ExnctBRS. — PART  n.      [Ex.  102,  KKJ. 

that  fear  ever  uttered — I  may  well  term  them  dreadful, 

35  for  they  haunted  my  sleep  for  years  afterwards. 

I  was  so  much  moved  by  this  horrid  spectacle,  that 
although  in  momentary  expectation  of  sharing  his  fate,  I 
did  attempt  to  speak  in  his  behalf,  but,  as  might  have 
been  expected,  my  interference  was  sternly  disregarded. 

40  The  victim  was  held  fast  by  some,  while  others,  binding 
a  large  heavy  stone  in  a  plaid,  tied  it  ruund  his  neck, 
and  others  again,  eagerly  stripped  him  of  some  part  of 
his  dress.  Half-naked  and  thus  manacled,  they  hurried 
him  into  the  lake,  there  about  twelve  feet  deep,  drowning 

46  his  last  death-shriek  with  a  loud  halloo  of  vindictive 
triumph,  over  which,  however,  the  yell  of  mortal  agony 
was  distinctly  heard.  The  heavy  burden  splashed  in 
the  dark  blue  waters  of  the  lake,  and  the  Highlanders, 
with  their  pole-axes  and  swords,  watched  an  instant, 

50  to  guard,  lest  extricating  himself  from  the  load  to 
which  he  was  attached,  he  might  have  struggled  to  re- 
gain the  shore.  But  the  knot  had  been  securely  bound  ; 
the  victim  sunk  without  effort ;  the  waters  which  his 
fall  had  disturbed,  settled  calmly  over  him ;  and  the 

55  unit  of  that  life  for  which  be  had  pleaded  so  strongly, 
was  forever  withdrawn  from  the  sum  of  human  ex- 


EXERCISE  103. 
On  the  receipt  of  hit  Mother  $  Picture. — COWPMU 

Could  Time,  his  flight  reverse,  restore  the  hours, 
When,  playing  with  thy  vesture's  tissued  flowers, 
The  violet,  the  pink,  the  jessamine, 
I  prick'd  them  into  paper  with  a  pin, — 
5  (And  thou  wast  happier  than  myself  the  while, 

\N  .midst  softly  speak,  and  str"k<-  my  head  and  smile,) — 

ild  those  few  pleasant  days  again  appear, 
Might  one  irish  bring  them,  would  I  wish  them  here  ? 
I  would  not  trtut  my  heart — the  dear  delight 
10  Seems  so  to  be  desired,  perhaps  T  might. — 
But,  no — what  here  we  call  our  life  is  such, 
So  little  to  be  loved,  and  thou  so  much, 
That  I  should  ill  requite  thee  to  constrain 
Thy  unbound  spirit  into  bonds 


Ex.   103,   104.]         EXERCISES. PART    IL  259 

15       Thou,  as  a  gallant  bark  from  Albion's  coast, 
(The  storms  all  weather'd,  and  the  ocean  cross'd,) 
Shoots  into  port  at  some  well-haven'd  isle, 
Where  spices  breathe,  and  brighter  seasons  smile, 
There  sits  quiescent  on  the  floods,  that  show 

20  Her  beauteous  form  reflected  clear  below, 
While  airs  impregnated  with  incense  play 
Around  her  fanning  light  her  streamers  gay ; 
So  thou,  with  sails  how  swift !  hast  reach'd  the  shore 
"  Where  tempests  never  beat,  nor  billows  roar  " 

25  And  thy  loved  consort  on  the  dangerous  tide 
Of  life  long  since  has  anchor 'd  by  thy  side. 
But  me,  scarce  hoping  to  attain  that  rest, 
Always  from  port  withheld,  always  distress'd — 
Me  howling  blasts  drive  devious,  tempest-toss'd, 

30  Sails  ripp'd,  seams  opening  wide,  and  compass  lost, 
And  day  by  day  some  current's  thwarting  force, 
Sets  me  more  distant  from  a  prosperous  course. 
Yet,  0  the  thought,  that  thou  art  safe,  and  he  ! 
That  thought  is  joy,  arrive  what  may  to  me. 

35  My  boast  is  not,  that  I  deduce  my  birth 

From  loins  enthroned,  and  rulers  of  the  Earth  ; 
But  higher  far  my  proud  pretensions  rise — 
The  son  of  parents,  passed  into  the  skies. 


EXERCISE   104. 
Extract  from  "  The  Grave." — MONTGOMERY. 

1  There  is  a  calm  for  those  who  weep ; 

A  rest  for  weary  pilgrims  found  : 
They  softly  lie,  and  sweetly  sleep, 
Low  in  the  ground  ! 

2  The  storm  that  wrecks  the  winter  sky 

No  more  disturbs  their  deep  repose, 
Than  summer-evening's  latest  sigh, 
That  shuts  the  rose. 

3  I  long  to  lay  this  painful  head, 

And  aching  heart,  beneath  the  soil ; 
To  slumber  in  that  dreamless  bed, 
From  all  my  toil. 


i:xeici«Bs.  —  PART  n.      [Ex.  104, 


4  Art  thou  a  wanderer  ?  —  hast  them  seen 

OVrw  helming  tempests  drown  thy  bark? 
A  shipwreck'd  sufferer  bast  thou  been, 
Misfortune's  mark  ? 

5  Though  long  of  winds  and  waves  the  sport, 

Condemn  d  in  wretchedness  to  roam, 
Lave  !  thou  shall  reach  a  sheltering  port, 
A  ijuiet  home  ! 

6  There  i*  a  calm  for  those  who  weep  ! 

A  rest  for  weary  pilgrims  found  : 
And  while  the  mouldering  ashes  sleep 
Low  in  the  ground  ;  — 

7  The  soul,  of  origin  Divine, 

God's  glorious  image,  freed  from  clay, 
In  Heaven's  eternal  sphere  shall  shine 
A  star  of  day  ! 

8  The  mn,  is  bat  a  spark  offirt, 

A  transient  meteor  in  the  sky  ; 
The  Mttl,  immortal  as  its  Sire, 
Shall  never  die  ! 


EXERCISE  106. 
Defense  of  Johnson. — CCURAN. 

Even  if  it  should  be  my  client's  fate  to  be  surrender- 
ed to  his  keepers — to  be  torn  from  his  family — to  have 
his  obsequies  performed  by  torch  light — to  be  carried 
to  a  foreign  land,  and  to  a  strange  tribunal,  where  no 
5  witness  can  attest  has  innocence,  where  no  voice  that 
he  ever  heard  can  be  raised  in  his  defense,  where  he 
must  stand  mute,  not  of  his  own  malice,  but  the  malice  of 
his  enemies — yes,  even  so,  I  see  nothing  for  him  to  fear ; 
— that  all-irrodous  Being,  that  shields  the  feeble  from  the 

10  oppressor,  will  fill  his  heart  with  hope,  and  confidence, 
and  courage;  his  *ufl~>  irmor,  and  his 

weakness  will  be  his  strength.  He  will  find  himself  in 
the  hands  of  a  brave,  a  just,  and  a  generous  nation — he 
will  find  that  the  bright  examples  of  her  Russels  and 

15  her  Sydneys  have  not  been  lost  to  her  children.    They 


Jbix.    105.]  liiERCWKsS. PAET    II.  Xitfl 

will  behold  him  with  sympathy  and  respeit,  and  his 
persecutors  with  shame  and  abhorrence  they  will 
feel  too,  that  what  is  then  his  situation,  may  to-morrow 
be  their  own — but  their  first  tear  will  be  shed  for  him, 

20  and  the  second  only  for  themselves.  Their  hearts  will 
melt  in  his  acquittal ;  they  will  convey  him  kindly  and 
fondly  to  their  shore ;  and  he  will  return  in  triumph  to 
his  country ;  to  the  threshhold  of  his  sacred  home,  and  to 
the  weeping  welcome  of  his  delighted  family.  He  will 

25  find  that  the  darkness  of  a  weary  and  lingering  night 
hath  at  length  passed  away,  and  that  joy  cometh  in  the 
morning. — No,  my  lords,  I  have  no  fear  for  the  ultimate 
safety  of  my  client.  Even  in  these  very  acts  of  brutal 
violence  that  have  been  committed  against  him,  do  I 

30  hail  the  flattering  hope  of  final  advantage  to  him — and 
not  only  of  final  advantage  to  him,  but  of  better  days  and 
more  prosperous  fortune  for  this  afflicted  country — that 
country  of  which  I  have  so  often  abandoned  all  hope, 
and  which  I  have  been  so  often  determined  to  quit  for- 

35  ever. 

I  have  repented — I  have  staid — and  I  am  at  once  re- 
buked and  rewarded  by  the  happier  hopes  that  I  now 
entertain.  In  the  anxious  sympathy  of  the  public — in 
the  anxious  sympathy  of  my  learned  brethren,  do  I  catch 

40  the  happy  presage  of  a  brighter  fate  for  Ireland.  They 
see,  that  within  these  sacred  walls,  the  cause  of  liberty 
and  of  man  may  be  pleaded  with  boldness  and  heard 
with  favor.  I  am  satisfied  they  will  never  forget  the 
great  trust,  of  which  they  alone  are  now  the  remaining 

45  depositaries.  While  they  continue  to  cultivate  a  sound 
philosophy — a  mild  and  tolerating  Christianity — and  to 
make  both  the  sources  of  a  just  and  liberal,  and  consti- 
tutional jurisprudence,  I  see  every  thing  for  us  to  hope  ; 
into  their  hands,  therefore,  with  the  most  affectionate 

50  confidence  in  their  virtue,  do  I  commit  these  precious 
hopes.  Even  /  may  live  long  enough  yet  to  see  the 
approaching  completion,  if  not  the  perfect  accomplish- 
ment of  them.  Pleased  shall  I  then  resign  the  scene  to 
fitter  actors — pleased  shall  I  lay  down  my  wearied  head 

55  to  rest,  and  say,  "  Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant 
depart  in  peace,  according  to  thy  word,  for  mine  eyes 
have  seen  thy  salvation." 


263  EXERCISES. FART    II.  [Ex.   106. 

I:\I-.RCISK  io«. 

Taking  of  Warsaw. — CAMPBELL. 

1  When  leagued  Oppression  pour'd  to  northern  wars 
Her  whisker'd  pandours  and  her  fierce  hussars. 
Waved  her  dread  standard  to  the  breeze  of  mom, 
Peal'd  her  loud  drum,  and  twang'd  her  trumpet  horn ; 
Tumultuous  horror  brooded  o'er  her  van, 
Presaging  wrath  to  Poland — and  to  man  ! 

2  Warsaw's  last  champion,  from  her  hight  surrey'd, 
Wide  o'er  the  fields,  a  waste  of  ruin  laid, — 

(°°)  Oh  !  Heaven  !  he  cried,  my  bleeding  country  save ; 

Is  there  no  hand  on  high  to  shield  the  brave  ? 

Yet,  though  destruction  sweep  these  lovely  plains, 

Rise,  fellow  men !  our  country  yet  remains  ! 

By  that  dread  name,  we  wave  the  sword  on  high, 

And  swear  for  her  to  live  ! — with  her  to  die! 

He  said,  and  on  the  rampart-hights  array M 
is  trusty-warriors,  few,  but  undismay'd  ! 
Firm-paced  and  slow,  a  horrid  front  they  form, 
Still  as  the  breeze,  but  dreadful  as  the  storm ; 
Low,  murmuring  sounds  along  their  banners  fly, 
Revenye  or  death, — the  watchword  and  reply  ; 
(<)  Then  peal'd  the  notes,  omnipotent  to  charm, 
And  the  loud  tocsin  toll'd  their  last  alarm  ! — 

4       ( — )  In  vain,  alas!  in  vain,  ye  gallant  few! 
From  rank  to  rank  your  volley 'd  thunder  flew: — 
Oh  !  bloodiest  picture  in  the  hook  of  Time, 
Sarmatia  fell,  unwept,  without  a  crime  ; 
Found  not  a  generous  friend,  a  pitying  foe, 
Strength  in  her  arms,  nor  merry  in  her  woe! 
Dropp'd  from  her  nerveless  grasp  the  shatter'd  spear. 
Closed  her  I'right  eye,  and  curh'd  her  high  career! 
Hope,  for  a  season,  hade  the  world  farewell, 
And  Freedom  shriek'd — as  Kotriuskn  fell. 

6       The  sun  went  down,  nor  ceased  the  carnage  there, 
Tumultuous  murder  shook  the  midnight  air- 
On  Prague's  proud  arch  the  6res  of  ruin  glow, 
His  blood-dyed  waters  murmuring  far  below; 


Ex.  106,  107.]       EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  263 

The  storm  prevails,  the  ramparts  yield  away, 
Bursts  the  wild  cry  of  horror  and  dismay; 
Hark  !  as  the  smouldering  piles  with  thunder  fall, 
A  thousand  shrieks  for  hopeless  mercy  call ! 
Earth  shook — red  meteors  flash'd  along  the  sky, 
And  conscious  Nature  shudder'd  at  the  cry ! 

6       Departed  spirits  of  the  mighty  dead  ! 
Ye  that  at  Marathon  and  Leuctra  bled ! 
Friends  of  the  world !  restore  your  swords  to  man, 
Fight  in  his  sacred  cause,  and  lead  the  van ! 
Yet  for  Samartia's  tears  of  blood  atone, 
And  make  her  arm  puissant  as  your  own  ! 
Oh !  once  again  to  Freedom's  cause  return 
The  patriot  Tell — the  Bruce  of  Bannockburn 


EXERCISE   107. 
Lord  Chatham. — BUTLER. 

Of  those,  by  whom  Lord  North  was  preceded,  none 
probably,  except  Lord  Chatham,  will  be  remembered  by 
posterity ;  but  the  nature  of  the  eloquence  of  this  extra- 
ordinary man,  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  describe. 
5  No  person  in  his  external  appearance  was  ever  more 
bountifully  gifted  by  nature  for  an  orator.  In  his  look 
and  his  gesture,  grace  and  dignity  were  combined,  but 
dignity  presided;  the  "terrors  of  his  beak,  the  light- 
nings of  his  eye,"  were  insufferable.  His  voice  was  both 

10  full  and  clear ;  his  lowest  whisper  was  distinctly  heard, 
his  middle  tones  were  sweet,  rich,  and  beautifully  varied ; 
when  he  elevated  his  voice  to  its  highest  pitch,  the 
House  was  completely  filled  with  the  volume  of  the 
sound.  The  effect  was  awful,  except  when  he  wished 

15  to  cheer  or  animate;  he  then  had  spirit-stirring  notes, 
which  were  perfectly  irresistible.  He  frequently  rose, 
on  a  sudden,  from  a  very  low  to  a  very  high  key,  but  it 
seemed  to  be  without  effort.  His  diction  was  remark- 
ably simple,  but  words  were  never  chosen  with  greater 

20  care;  he  mentioned  to  a  friend,  thsfc  he  had  perused 
some  of  Dr.  Barrow's  Sermons  so  often  as  to  know  them 
by  heart. 


[Ex.  lu7. 


His  sentMaenU  too,  were  apparently  simple  ;  but  senti- 

25  ments  were  never  adopted  or  uttered  with  greater  skill ; 
he  was  often  familiar  and  even  playful,  but  it  was  the  fa- 
miliarity .-UK!  pl.iyluliH-vs  of  condescension — the  lion  that 
dandled  with  the  kid.  The  trrnbic,  however,  was  his  pe- 
culiar power — Then  the  whole  House  suok  before  him. — 

30  Still  he  was  dignified  ;  and  wonderful  as  was  his  eloquence, 
it  was  attended  with  this  m-.-t  important  effect,  that  it 
impressed  every  hearer  with  a  conviction,  that  there  was 
something  in  him  even  finer  than  his  words  ;  that  the 
man  was  infinitely  greater  than  the  orator.  No  impres- 

35  sion  of  this  kind  was  made  by  the  eloquence  of  his  son,  or 
his  son's  anta^oi:: 

Still, — with  the  great  man, — for  great  he  certainly  was, 
— manner  did  much.  One  of  the  fairest  specimens  which 
we  possess  of  his  lordship's  oratory,  is  his  speech,  in 

40  1776,  for  the  repeal  of  the  stamp  act. 

Most,  perhaps,  who  read  the.  report  of  this  speech  in 
Almon's  Register,  will  wonder  at  the  effect,  which  it  is 
known  to  have  produced  on  the  hearers  ;  yet  the  report 
is  tolerably  exact,  and  exhibits,  although  faintly,  its  lead- 

45  ing  features.  But  they  should  have  seen  the  look  of  in- 
effable contempt,  with  which  he  surveyed  the  late  Mr. 
Orenville,  who  sat  within  one  of  him,  and  should  have 
heard  him  say  with  that  look, — "  As  to  the  late  minis- 
try,— every  capital  measure  they  have  taken,  has  been 

50  entirely  wrong."  They  should  also  have  beheld  him, 
when  addressing  himself  to  Mr.  Grenville's  successors, 
he  said, — "  As  to  the  present  gentlemen, — those,  at 
least,  whom  1  have  in  my  eye,"— -(lacking  at  the  bench 
on  which  Mr.  Conway  sat,) — "  I  htiwe  no  objection ;  I 

55  have   never   been   made  a  sacrifice  by  any  of  them. — 

Some  of  them  have  done  me  the  honor  to  ask  my  poor 

opinion,  before  they  would  engage  to  repeal  the  act : — 

they  will  do  me  the  justice,  to  own,  I  did  advise  them  to 

.'.ge  to  do  it, — hut  notwithstanding — (for  I  love  to  be 

60  explicit,) — I  cannot  give  them  ray  confidence.  Pardon 
me,  gentlemen," — (bowing  to  them,) — "  confaUnc*  is  a 
plant  of  ,v/o/r  .rrowth."  Those,  who  remember  the  air 
of  condescending  protection,  with  which  the  bow  was 
made  and  the  look  given,  when  he  spoke  these  words, 

65  will  recollect  how  much  they  themselves,  at  the  moment, 
were  both  delighted  and  awed,  and  what  they  them- 


Ex.    107,   108.]         iiXERCISBS. PART    U. 

selves  then  conceived  of  the  immeasurable  superiority 
of  the  orator  over  every  human  being  that  surrounded 
him.  In  the  passages  which  we  have  cited,  there  is 
70  nothing  which  an  ordinary  speaker  might  not  have  said ; 
it  was  the  manner,  and  the  manner  only,  which  produced 
the  effect. 


EXERCISE  108. 
v    Mr.  Fox  and  Mr.  Pitt. — BUTLER. 

On  his  first  separation  from  the  ministry,  Mr.  Fox  as- 
sumed the  character  of  a  whig. 

Almost  the  whole  of  his  political  life  was  spent  in  op- 
position to  his  majesty's  ministers.  In  vehemence  and 
5  power  of  argument  he  resembled  Demosthenes ;  but 
there  the  resemblance  ended.  He  possessed  a  strain  of 
ridicule  and  wit,  which  nature  denied  to  the  Athenian ; 
and  it  was  the  more  powerful,  as  it  always  appeared  to 
be  blended  with  argument,  and  to  result  from  it.  To 

10  the  perfect  composition  which  so  eminently  distinguishes 
the  speeches  of  Demosthenes,  he  had  no  pretence.  He 
was  heedless  of  method  : — having  the  complete  command 
of  good  words,  he  never  sought  for  better:  if  those, 
which  occurred,  expressed  his  meaning  clearly  and  for- 

15  cibly,  he  paid  little  attention  to  their  arrangement  or 
harmony. 

The  moment  of  his  grandeur  was,  when,  after  he  had 
stated  the  argument  of  his  adversary,  with  much  greater 
strength  than  his  adversary  had  done,  and  with  much 

20  greater  than  any  of  his  hearers  thought  possible,  he 
seized  it  with  the  strength  of  a  giant,  and  tore  and 
trampled  on  it  to  destruction.  If,  at  this  moment,  he 
had  possessed  the  power  of  the  Athenian  over  the  pas- 
sions or  the  imaginations  of  his  hearers,  he  might  have 

25  disposed  of  the  House  at  his  pleasure  ;  but  this  was  de- 
nied to  him  ;  and,  on  this  account,  his  speeches  fell  very 
short  of  the  effect,  which  otherwise  they  must  have  pro- 
duced. 

It  is  difficult  to  decide  on  the  comparative  merit  of 

30  him  and   Mr.  Pitt;    the    latter  had   not  the  vehement 
reasoning,  or  argumentative  ridicule,  of  Mr.  Fox :    but 
12 


EXEKMB9. fAMT    II.         [Hx.    106,  100. 

he  had  more  kplendor,  more  imagery,  and  much  more 
method  and  discretion.  His  long,  lofty,  and  reverential 
paaegyrio*  of  the  British  constitution,  his  eloquent  vitu- 

35  ptrrtsBM  of  those,  whom  he  described  as  advocating 
the  democratic  spirit,  then  let  loose  on  the  inhabitants  of 
the  earth,  and  his  solemn  adjuration  of  the  Houae  to  de- 
fend and  to  assist  him,  in  defending  their  all  again.-t  it, 
were,  in  the  highest  degree,  both  imposing  and  concili- 

40  ating.  In  addition,  he  had  the  command  of  bitter,  con- 
temptuous sarcasm,  which  tortured  to  madness.  This 
he  could  expand  or  compress  at  pleasure :  even  in  one 
member  of  a  sentence,  he  could  inflict  a  wound  that  was 
never  healed. 

45  Mr.  Fox  had  a  captivating  «irnextnt»»  of  tone  and 
manner;  Mr.  Pitt  was  more  dignified  than  earnest. 
The  action  of  Mr.  Fox  was  easy  and  graceful ;  Mr.  Pitt's 
cannot  be  praised.  It  was  an  observation  of  the  reporters 
in  the  gallery,  that  it  required  great  exertion  to  follow 

50  Mr.  Fox  while  he  was  speaking;  none  to  remember 
what  he  had  said;  that  it  was  easy  and  delightful  to 
follow  Mr.  Pitt ;  not  so  easy  to  recollect  what  bad 
delighted  them.  It  may  be  added,  that,  in  all  Mr. 
Fox  s  speeches,  even  when  he  was  most  violent,  there 

55  was  an  unquestionable  indication  of  good  humor,  which 
attracted  every  heart.  When-  there  was  such  a  seeming 
equipoise  of  merit,  the  two  last  circumstances  might  be 
thought  to  turn  the  scale;  but  Mr.  Pitt's  undeviating 
circumspection, — sometimes  concealed,  sometimes  osten- 

60  tatiously  displayed, — tended  to  obtain  for  him,  from 
the  considerate  and  the  grave,  a  confidence  which  they 
denied  to  his  rival. 


r.xr.urisi:  109. 

Dtalh  of  Is>rd  Chatham. — PKRCT. 

Chatham  enu-rnl  th.  House  «.f  Ix>rds  for  the  but 
tine  on  the  7th  of  April,  1778,  leaning  upon  two  friends. 
He  was  wrapped  up  in  flannel,  and  looked  pale  and  ema- 
ciated. His  eye  was  still  penetrating ;  ana  though  with 
5  the  evident  appearance  of  a  dying  man,  there  M*er  was 
•ceo  a  figure  of  more  dignity ;  he  appeared  like  a  beimg 


Ex.  109.]  EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  267 

of  superior  species.  He  rose  from  his  seat  slowly,  and 
with  difficulty,  leaning  on  his  crutches,  and  supported 
under  each  arm  by  two  of  his  friends.  He  took  one 

10  hand  from  his  crutch,  and  raised  it,  casting  his  eyes 
toward  heaven,  and  said,  "  I  thank  God  that  I  have  been 
enabled  to  come  here  this  day — to  perform  my  duty,  and 
to  speak  on  a  subject  which  has  so  deeply  impressed  my 
mind.  I  am  old  and  infirm ;  have  one  foot,  more  than 

15  one  foot,  in  the  grave.  I  am  risen  from  my  bed,  to  stand 
up  in  the  cause  of  my  country !  perhaps  never  again  to 
speak  in  this  House !"  At  first  he  spoke  in  a  very  low 
and  feeble  tone ;  but  as  he  grew  warm,  his  voice  rose, 
and  was  as  harmonious  as  ever,  perhaps  more  oratorical 

20  and  affecting  than  at  any  former  period ;  both  from  his 
own  situation,  and  from  the  importance  of  the  subject  on 
which  he  spoke.  He  gave  the  whole  history  of  the  Ameri- 
can war ;  of  all  the  measures  to  which  he  had  objected ; 
and  all  the  evils  which  he  had  prophesied  would  be  the 

25  consequence  of  them ;  adding,  at  the  end  of  each,  "  And 
so  it  proved." 

In  one  part  of  his  speech  he  ridiculed  the  apprehen- 
sion of  an  invasion ;  and  then  recalled  the  remembran- 
ces of  former  invasions.  "  Of  a  Spanish  invasion,  of  a 

30  French  invasion,  of  a  Dutch  invasion,  many  noble  lords 
-may  have  read  in  history ;  and  some  lords  (looking  keenly 
at  one  who  sat  near  him,)  may  perhaps  remember  a  Scotch 
invasion !" 

When  the  Duke  of  Richmond  was  speaking,  he  looked 

35  at  him  with  attention  and  composure ;  but  when  he  rose 
to  answer,  his  strength  failed  him,  and  he  fell  backward. 
He  was  instantly  supported  by  those  who  were  near  him. 
He  was  then  carried  to  Mr.  Serjent's  house  in  Downing- 
street ;  and  from  thence  conveyed  home  to  Hayes,  and 

40  put  to  bed,  from  which  he  never  rose.  Such  was  the 
glorious  end  of  the  great  Lord  Chatham,  who  died  in  the 
discharge  of  a  great  political  duty,  a  duty  which  he  came 
in  a  dying  state  to  perform. 


268  SjyUOMBS. PART    11.  [Ex.    110. 

EXERCISE   110. 
Lord  Mansfield. — PERCY. 

It  is  yet  the  traditionary  tale  of  the  country  that  gave 
this  ere  it  orator  and  lawyer  birth,  that  almost  in  infancy 
he  was  accustomed  to  dtvlairn  upon  his  native  mountains, 
and  repeat  to  the  winds  the  most  celebrated  speeches  of 
5  Demosthenes  and  Cicero,  not  only  in  their  original  text, 
but  in  his  o\\n  translations  of  them. 

Mansfield  advanced  to  the  dignities  of  the  state  by 
rapid  strides.  They  were  not  bestowed  by  the  caprice 
of  party  favor  or  affection  :  they  were  (as  was  said  of 

10  Pliny)  liberal  dispensations  of  power,  upon  an  object  that 
knew  how  to  add  new  lustre  to  that  powi  r,  by  the  rational 
exertion  of  his  own. 

As  a  Speaker  in  the  House  of  Lords,  he  was  without 
a  competitor.  His  language  was  elegant  and  perspicu- 

15  ous,  arranged  with  the  happiest  method,  and  applied 
with  the  utmost  extent  of  human  ingenuity  ;  his  images 
were  often  bold,  and  always  just;  but  the  more  prevail- 
ing character  of  his  eloquence,  was  that  of  being  flowing, 
soft,  delightful,  and  averting.  Among  his  more  rare 

20  qualifications,  may  be  ranked  the  external  graces  <.f  his 

•n  :  the  fire  and  vivacity  of  his  looks;  the  delicious 

harmony  of  his  voice  ;  and  that  habitual  fitness  in  all  he 

said,  which  gave  to  his  speeches  more  than  the  effect  of 

the  most  labored  compositions.     He  was  modest  and  un- 

25  assuming;  n  ending    to  personal  altercation,  or 

even  replying  to  personal  reflections,  except  when  they 
went  to  affect  the  integrity  of  his  public  character.  When 
instances  of  the  latter  occurred,  he  evinced  that  he  was 
not  without  a  spirit  to  repel  them;  of  this  he  tr ••• 

30  memorable  proof,  in  the  debate  on  Wilke's  outlawry, 
when,  In-ing  accused  nf  braving  the  popular  opinion.  In- 
replied  in  the  following  noble  strain  of  e!o<jin  n 

"  If  I  have  ever  supported  the  king's  measures  ;  if  I 
have  ever  afforded  any  assistance  to  government  ;  if  I 

85  have  discharged  my  duty  as  a  public  or  private  officer, 
by  endeavoring  to  preserve  pure  and  perfect  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  constitution ;  maintaining  unsullied  the 
honor  of  the  courts  of  justice;  and  by  an  upright  ad- 
ministration '/,  to  give  due  effect  to,  the  laws ;  I  have 


Ex.110.]  EXERCISES. PART  II.  269 

-'  ; — — — — 

40  hitherto  done  it  without  any  other  gift  or  reward  «than  that 
most  pleasing  and  most  honorable  one,  the  conscientious 
conviction  of  doing  what  is  right.  I  do  not  affect  to 
scorn  the  opinion  of  mankind  ;  1  wish  earnestly  for  pop- 
ularity ;  but  I  will  tell  you  how  I  will  obtain  it :  I  will 

45  have  that  popularity  which  follows,  and  not  that  which  is 
run  after.  'Tis  not  the  applause  of  a  day  ;  'tis  not  the 
huzzas  of  thousands  that  can  give  a  moment's  satisfac- 
tion to  a  rational  being ;  that  man's  mind  must,  in- 
deed, be  a  weak  one,  and  his  ambition  of  a  most  depraved 

50  sort,  who  can  be  captivated  by  such  wretched  allure- 
ments, or  satisfied  with  such  momentary  gratifications. 
I  say  with  the  Roman  orator,  and  can  say  it  with  as  much 
truth  as  he  did,  "  Ego  hoc  animo  semperfui  ut  invidiam 
virtute  partem,  gloriam  non  infamiam  putarem."  But 

55  threats  have  been  carried  further  ;  personal  violence  has 
been  denounced,  unless  public  humor  be  complied  with. 
I  do  not  fear  such  threats ;  I  don't  believe  there  is  any 
reason  to  fear  them ;  it  is  not  the  genius  of  the  worst  of 
men  in  the  worst  of  times,  to  proceed  to  such  shocking 

60  extremities ;  but  if  such  an  event  should  happen,  let  it 
be  so ;  even  such  an  event  might  be  productive  of  whole- 
some effects ;  such  a  stroke  might  rouse  the  better  part  of 
the  nation  from  their  lethargic  condition,  to  a  state  of  ac- 
tivity, to  assert  and  execute  the  law,  and  punish  the  daring 

65  and  impious  hands,  which  had  violated  it ;  and  those  who 
now  supinely  behold  the  danger  which  threatens  all  lib- 
erty, from  the  most  abandoned  licentiousness,  might  by 
such  an  event  be  awakened  to  a  sense  of  their  situation, 
as  drunken  men  are  often  shamed  into  sobriety.  If  the 

70  security  of  our  persons  and  property,  of  all  wo  hold  dear 
or  valuable,  are  to  depend  upon  the  caprice  of  a  giddy 
multitude,  or  to  be  at  the  disposal  of  a  mob ;  if,  in  com- 
pliance with  the  humors,  and  to  appease  the  clamors  of 
these,  all  civil  and  political  institutions  are  to  be  disre- 

75  garded  or  overthrown ;  a  life  somewhat  more  than  sixty, 
is  not  worth  preserving  at  such  a  price,  and  he  can  never 
die  too  soon,  who  lays  down  his  life  in  support  and  vindi- 
cation of  the  policy,  the  government,  and  the  constitution 

80  of  his  country." 


KXKBCISEfl. PA*T    11.  [Ex.    HI 

i:\r.K<  ISK  in. 

Providential  Distinctions. — POLLOK. 
One  man  there  was, — and  many  such  you  might 
Have  met — who  never  had  a  dozen  thoughts 
In  all  his  life,  and  never  changed  their  course  ; 
But  told  them  o'er,  each  in  its  'custom'd  place, 
5  From  morn  till  night,  frum  youth  till  hoary  age. 
Little  above  the  ox  which  grazed  the  Bold 
His  reason  rose :  so  weak  his  memory, 
The  name  his  mother  call'd  him  by,  he  scarce 
Remember 'd  ;  and  his  judgment  so  untaught, 

10  That  what  at  evening  play  d  along  the  swamp 
Fantastic,  clad  in  robe  of  fiery  hue, 
He  thought  the  devil  in  disguise,  and  fled 
With  quivering  heart,  and  winged  footsteps  home. 
The  word  Philosophy  he  never  heard, 

15  Or  Science  ;  never  heard  of  Liberty, 
Necessity  ;  or  laws  of  gravitation  : 
And  never  had  an  unbelieving  doubt. 
Beyond  his  native  vale  he  never  look'd  ; 
But  thought  the  visual  line,  that  girt  him  round, 

20  The  world's  extreme :  and  thought  the  silver  moon, 
That  nightly  o'er  him  led  her  virgin  host, 
No  broader  titan  his  father's  shield,     lie  lived — 
Lived  where  his  father  lived — died  where  he  died ; 
Lived  happy,  and  died  happy,  and  was  sa 

25  Be  not  surprised.     He  loved,  and  served  his  God. 

There  was  another,  large  of  understanding, 
Of  memory  infinite,  of  judgment  deep  : 
Who  knew  all  learning,  and  all  science  knew  ; 
And  all  phenomena  in  heaven  and  earth, 

30  Traced  to  their  causes ;  traced  the  labyrinth* 
Of  thought,  association,  passion,  will  ; 
And  all  the  subtile,  nice  affinities 
Of  matter,  traced  ;  its  virtues,  motions,  laws  ; 
And  most  familiarly  and  deeply  tolk'd 

35  Of  mental,  moral,  natural,  divine. 

Leaving  the  earth  at  will,  he  soar'd  to  heaven. 
And  read  the  gloriou>  \i>i<ms  of  the  skies ; 
And  to  the  music  of  the  rolling  sphere* 
Intelligently  listen'd  ;  and  gazed  far  back, 

40  Into  the  awful  depths  of  Deity. 


Ex.    Ill,  112.]         EXERCISES. PART  H.     ,  271 

«; — ~ 

Did  all,  that  man  assisted  most,  could  do ; 
And  yet  in  misery  lived,  in  misery  died, 
Because  he  wanted  holiness  of  heart. 

A  deeper  lesson  this  to  mortals  taught, 
45  And  nearer  cut  the  branches  of  their  pride  : 
That  not  in  mental,  but  in  moral  worth, 
God,  excellence  placed ;  and  only  to  the  good, 
To  virtue,  granted  happiness  alone. 


EXERCISE  112. 
Eloquence  of  Bossuet. — BUTLER. 

We  have  mentioned  Mr.  Burke's  endless  corrections  of 
his  compositions ;  Bossuet,  by  the  account  of  his  Bene- 
dictine editors,  was  equally  laborious ;  but  in  this  they 
differed :  that  Burke  appears  to  have  been  satisfied  with 
5  his  original  conceptions,  and  to  have  been  fastidious 
only  in  respect  to  words  and  phrases ;  Bossuet  seems  to 
have  been  equally  dissatisfied  with  his  first  thoughts  and 
his  first  words. 

Rousseau  himself  has  informed  us,  that  between  his 

10  first  committing  of  a  sentence  to  paper,  and  his  final 
settlement  of  it,  his  obliterations  and  alterations  were 
countless.  That  this  should  have  been  the  case  of  such 
writers  as  Robertson  or  Gibbon,  is  not  surprising  ;  their 
eternal  batteries  and  counter-batteries  of  words,  seem 

15  to  be  the  effect  of  much  reflection,  and  many  second 
thoughts ;  but  that  it  should  have  been  the  case  with 
writers  like  Bossuet,  Burke,  and  Rousseau,  who  appear 
to  pour  streams  equally  copious  and  rapid  of  unpremedi- 
tated eloquence,  appears  extraordinary ;  it  justifies  the 

20  common  remark,  that  we  seldom  read  with  pleasure, 
what  has  not  been  composed  with  labor.  Such  are  the 
pages  of  Addison,  such  the  Offices  of  Cicero;  such  also, 
but  in  a  superlative  degree,  are  many  passages  of  Milton. 
Akenside,  his  imitator,  with  all  his  genius,  taste,  and 

25  labor,  never  attained  it ;  he  does  not  exhibit  a  single 
instance  of  this  perfect  composition ;  but  we  often  find  it 
in  Gray. 

Every  thing  we  know  of  Bossuet,  leads  us  to  think 
that  he  had  a  very  feeling  heart ;  it  certainly  is  descerni- 


IXBRCJSBS. PART    II.  [Ex      I  I.' 

80  ble  in  every  line  of  his  funeral  oration  on  the  Priix  •  >s 
Henrietta.     He  chose  fur  his  text  the  verse 
astes,  so  suitable  to  the  occasion,  "Vanity  o!   vanities! 
All  is  vanity  !"     Having  pronounced   these  words,  he  re- 
mained for  some  time  in  silence,  evidently  overpowered 

35  by  his  feelings.     "  It  was  to  be  my  lot,"  he  then  ex- 
claimed, "to  perform  this  melancholy  duty  to  the  memory 
of  this  illustrious  princess  !     She,  whom  I  had  obf" 
so  attentive,   while  I  performed  the  same  duty  to  her 
royal  mother,  was  herself  so  soon  to  become  the  theme 

40  of  a  similar  discourse ! — And  my  voice  was  so  soon 
to  be  exerted  in  discharging  the  like  melancholy  duty 
to  her  !  0  vanity !  O  nothing !  O  mortals  !  ever  igno- 
rant of  what  awaits  you ! — But  a  month  ago  would  she 
have  thought  it  V  You.  \\h»  then  beheld  her  drown. -d 

45  in  tears  for  her  mother's  loss,  would  you  have  thought 
it  ?  Would  you  have  thought,  that  you  were  so  soon  to 
meet  again  to  bewail  her  own  fate?  O  vanity  of  vani- 
ties! All  U  vanity!  These  are  the  only  words!  the 
only  reflection,  which,  in  such  an  event,  my  sorrow 

50  leaves  me  !" 

After  this  eloquent  exordium,  Bossuet  pursues  his  dis- 
mal theme.     He  describes,  in  strains,  always  eloquent, 
ij.r.;  but  always  mournful,  the  short  but  brilliant  career  of 
the  princess; — so  highly  stationed,  so  greatly  gifted,  so 

55  widely  admired,  and  so  generally  loved !  The  idol  of 
the  world  !  The  pride  of  her  august  family  !  The  de- 
light of  all  who  approached  her ! — "  Yet  what,"  he  ex- 
claimed, "is  all  this,  which  we,  so  much  below  it,  so 
greatly  admire!  While  we  tremble  in  the  view  of  the 

60  greai  iltes  them,  that  they  may  serve  as  warn- 

does  he  consider  these  great 
•  •in  otten  serve  as  mere  materials 

for  our   in-tnictioii ' — We   have  always  sufficient  reason 
to  lie  convinced  of  our  nothingness;  bat  if,  to  wean  our 

05  hearts  from  the  fascination  of  the  world,  the  wonderful 

and   the  astonishing  is  necessary,  what   we  now   behold 

is  sutticientlv  terrible.     O  ni^ht  of  woe  !     O  night  of  hor- 

iki-  a  peal  of  thunder,  t!  1  words, — 

!!••  / — Henrietta  is  dead — bant  upon  us! 

YO  Nothing  r»nld  be  heard  but  cries; — nothing  was  discern- 

yat  ible  but  grief,  despair,  and  the  image  of  death !" — The 
wri*  *  timr  mentioned  that  <^net  pro 


Ex.    112,   113.]         EXERCISES. rPART    II.  273 

- 

nounced  these   words,  the  whole   audience   arose   from 
their  seats ;  that  terror  was  visible  in  every  countenance, 
f  5  and  that,  for  some  moments,  Bossuet  himself  was  unable 
to  proceed. 

•*•*'• 

EXERCISE  113. 

Eloquence  of  Bourdaloue, — BUTLER. 
In  delivering  his  sermons,  Bourdaloue  used  no  action ; 
Bossuet  and  Massillon  used  much ;  the  action  of  the  last 
was  particularly  admired.     It  produced  an  extraordinary 
effect,   when    he    pronounced    his   funeral   oration   upon 
5  Louis  the  Fourteenth.     The  church  was  hung  with  black, 
a  magnificent  mausoleum  was  raised  over  the  bier ;  the 
edifice  was  filled  with  trophies  and  other  memorials  of  the 
monarch's  past  glories  ;  daylight  was  excluded,  but  in- 
numerable tapers  supplied  its  place,  and  the   ceremony 

10  was  attended  by  the  most  illustrious  persons  in  the  king- 
dom. Massillon  ascended  the  pulpit,  contemplated,  for 
some  moments,  the  scene  before  him,  then  raised  his 
arms  to  heaven,  looked  down  on  the  scene  beneath,  and, 
after  a  short  pause,  slowly  said,  in  a  solemn,  subdued 

15  tone,  "  GOD  ONLY  is  GREAT  !"  With  one  impulse,  all  the 
auditory  rose  from  their  seats,  turned  to  the  altar,  and 
slowly  and  reverently  bowed. 

-     Those    who   read    sermons   merely    for   their   literary 
merit,  will  generally  prefer  the  sermons  of  Massillon  to 

20  those  of  Bourdaloue  and  Bossuet.  But  those  who  read 
sermons  for"  -instruction,  and  whose  chief  object  in  the 
perusal  of  them,  is  to  be  excited  to  virtue  or  confirmed 
in  her  paths,  will  generally  consider  Bourdaloue  as  the 
first  of  preachers,  and  every  time  they  peruse  him,  will 

25  feel  new  delight. 

When  we  recollect  before  whom  Bourdaloue  preached ; 
that  he  had,  for  his  auditors,  the  most  luxurious  court 
in  Europe,  and  a  monarch  abandoned  to  ambition  and 
pleasure,  we  shall  find  it  impossible  not  to  honor  the 

30  preacher,  for  the  dignified  simplicity  with  which  he 
uniformly  held  up  to  his  audience  the  severity  of  the 
Gospel,  and  the  scandal  of  the  cross.  Now  and  then, 
and  ever  with  a  very  bad  grace,  he  makes  an  unmean- 
ing compliment  to  the  monarch.  On  these  occasions, 

35  his  genius  appears  to  desert  him  ;  but  he  never  disguises 

1  '2* 


BXHCISES. PART    II.  [Ex.    113. 

the  morality  of  the  Gospel,  or  withholds  its  threat*.  In 
one  of  the  serin. -ns  winch  In-  preached  before  the  mon- 
arch, he  described,  with  matchless  eloquence,  the  horrors 
of  an  adulterous  life,  its  abomination  in  the  eje  of  God, 

40  its   scandal   to   man,  and  the  public  and   private  evils 

which  attend  it :  but  he  managed  his  discourse  with  BO 

-much  address,  that  he  kept   tin-   king  from  suspecting 

that  the  thunder  ot  tin-  pn-arher  was  ultimately  to  fait 

upon  him.     In  general,  Bourdaloue  spoke  in  a  level  tone 

46  ot  voice,  and  with  his  eyes  almost  shut.  On  this  occa- 
sion, having  wound  up  the  attention  of  the  mqnarch  and 
the  audience  to  the  highest  pitch,  he  paused.  The 
audience  expected  something  terrible,  and  seemed  to  fear 
the  next  word.  The  pause  continued  for  some  time: 

50  at  length,  the  preacher,  fixing  his  eyes  directly  on  his 
royal  hearer,  and  in  a  tone  of  voice  equally  expressive 
of  horror  and  concern,  said,  in  the  words  of  the  prophet, 
"  Thou  art  the  man!"  thru,  leaving  thc-c  words  to  their 
effect,  he  concluded  with  a  mild  and  general  prayer  to 

55  Heaven  for  the  conversion  of  all  sinners.  A  miserable 
courtier  observed,  in  a  \\hi.-per.  to  the  monarch,  that  the 
boldness  of  the  pr<  ceded  all  bounds,  and  should 

be  checked.  "  No,  sir,"  replied  the  monarch,  "  the 
preacher  has  done  his  duty,  let  us  do  mm."  When 

60  the  service  was  concluded,  the  monarch  walked  slowly 
from  the  church,  and  ordered  Bourdaloue  into  his  pres- 
ence. He  remarked  to  him,  his  general  protection  of 
religion,  the. kindness  winch  he  had  ever  shown  to  the 
Society  of  Jesus,  his  particular  attention*  to  Bourdaloue 

65  and    his    friends.      He    then    reproached    him    with    the 

strong   language  of  the  sermon,  and  asked  him,   what 

could    be    his    motive    for  insulting  him,  tim-    publicly, 

before   his   subjects  ?      Bourdaloue   fell   on   his   knees : 

>d  is   my  witness,  that  it  was  not  my  wish   to  insult 

70  your  majesty  ;  but  I  am  a  minister  of  God,  and  must  not 
disguise  his  truths.  What  1  said  in  my  sermon  is  my 
morning  and  evening  prayer: — May  God,  in  his  infinite 
mercy,  grant  me  to  see  the  day,  when  the  greatest  of 
kind's  shall  be  the  holiest."  The  monarch  was  affected, 

75  and  silently  dismissed  the  preacher:  but,  from  this 
tame,  the  court  began  to  observe  that  change  which 
afterward,  and  at  no  distant  period,  led  Louis  to  a  life 
of  regularity  and  virtue. 


Ex.   114.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  275 

EXERCISE  114. 
*  Eloquence  of  Bridainc. — BUTLER. 

"  The  missionary  orator,  most  renowned  in  our  days," 
says  Maury,  "  was  M.  Bridaine.  Highly  gifted  with 
popular  eloquence,  full  of  animation,  abounding  in  figures 
and  pathos,  no  one  possessed,  in  an  equal  degree,  the 
5  rare  talent  of  commanding  an  assembled  multitude. 
The  organ  of  his  voice  was  so  powerful  and  happy,  as  to 
render  credible  what  ancient  history  relates  of  the  de- 
clamation of  the  ancients ;  he  made  himself  as  well 
heard  in  open  air,  to  an  assembly  of  10,000  persons,  as 

10  if  he  spoke  under  the  vault  of  the  most  sonorous  temple. 
In  all  he  said,  there  might  be  discovered  that  natural 
eloquence,  which  originates  from  genius ;  that  bound  of 
natural  vigor,  which  is  superior  to  any  imitation.  His 
bold  metaphors ;  his  quick  and  vivid  turns  of  thought 

15  and  expression,  equally  surprised,  affected,  and  delighted. 
His  eloquence  was  always  simple,  but  it  was  always  noble 
in  its  simplicity.  With  these  endowments,  he  never 
failed  to  raise  and  preserve  the  attention  of  the  people ; 
they  were  never  tired  of  listening  to  him." 

20  In  1751,  he  preached  in  the  church  of  St.  Sulpice,  at 
Paris.  His  renown  had  prece'ded  him  ;  and  the  temple 
was  filled  with  the  highest  dignitaries  of  the  church  and 
state,  decorated  with  the  various  insignia  of  their  ranks 
and  orders.  The  venerable  man  ascended  the  pulpit, 

25  cast  a  look  of  indignation  and  pity  on  his  audience,  re- 
mained in  silence  for  some  moments,  and  then  began 
his  sermon  in  these  words : — "  In  the  presence  of  an 
audience  of  a  kind  so  new  to  me,  it  might,  my  brethren, 
be  thought,  that  I  should  not  open  my  mouth,  without 

30  entreating  your  indulgence  to  a  poor  missionary,  who 
does  not  possess  any  one  of  the  talents,  which  you  are 
"pleased  to  require  from  those,  who  address  you  on  the 
salvation  of  your  souls.  My  feelings  are  very  different. 
May  God  forbid,  that  any  minister  of  the  Gospel  shall 

35  ever  think  he  owes  an  apology  for  preaching  Gospel 
truths  to  you;  for,  whoever  you  are,  you,  like  myself, 
are  sinners  in  the  judgment  of  God.  Till  this  day,  I 
have  published  the  judgments  of  the  Most  High  in  the 
temples  roofed  with  straw :  I  have  preached  the  rigors 


370  •XBRCMES. FART    II.          [Ex.  114, 

40  of  penance  to  an  audience,  most,  of  whom  wanted  bread. 
I  have  proclaimed,  to  tin-  simple  inhabitants  of  the  vil- 
lages, thr  most  terrible  truths  of  religion. — Unhappy 
man! — what  have  I  done? — I  have  afflicted  the  poor, 
iht-  U-i  frit-mis  of  my  (iod.  1  have  carried  consterna- 

45  (ion  and  woe  into  simple  and  honest  bosoms,  which  I 
ought  rather  to  have  soothed  and  comforted. 

"But  here! — where  my  eyes  fall  on  the  great,  on  the 
rick,  on  the  oppressors  of  suffering  humanity,  or  on  bold 
and  hardened  sinners ;  it  is  here, — in  the  midst  of  these 

60  scandals,  that  I  ou^ht  to  make  tin-  ln-ly  word  resound 
in  all  its  thunders,  and  place  on  one  side  of  roe,  death, 
that  threatens  you.  and  the  great  God,  who  is  to  judge 
us  all.  Tremble,  ye  proud,  disdainful  men,  who  li.Mt  n 
to  nit-  !  Trt-mble  !  for  the  abuse  of  favors  of  every  kind, 

55  which  God  has  heaped  on  you !  Think  on  the  certainty 
of  death:  the  unorrtainty  of  its  hour:  how  terrible  it 
will  be  to  you  !  Think  on  final  impenitence, — on  the 
last  judgment, — on  the  small  number  of  the  elect,  and, 
above  all,  think  on  eternity!  These  are  the  subjects 

•0  upon  which  1  shall  discourse  to  you,  and  which,  with  tin- 
feelings  I  have  mentioned,  I  ought  to  unfold  to  \ou  all  in 
all  their  tern 

"Who."  exclaims  Cardinal  Maury,  "does  not  feel, 
both  while  he  reads,  and  after  he  has  read  such  an  ex- 

65  ordium,  how  much  this  eloquence  of  the  soul  is  beyond 
the  cold  pretensions  of  the  elegant  men,  with  which  our 
pulpits  are  now  filled  ?  Ye  orators,  who  attend  only  to 
your  own  reputation,  atkr  here  your  m; 

Fall  at  the  feet  of  this  apostolic  man,  and  learn,  from  a 

70  missionary  priest,  what  is  true  eloquence." 


EXKUUSK    115. 
Eloquence  of  Whitffield. — GILLTM. 

The  eloquence  of  Whitt -field  was  indeed  very  great, 
and  of  tin-  truest  kind,  lie  was  utterly  devoid  of  all  ap- 
pearance of  affectation.  He  seemed  to  be  quite  uncon- 
scious i :  nts  he  possessed.  The  importance  of 
•ft.  and  the  regard  due  to  his  hearers  engrossed 
all  his  concern.  He  spoke  like  one  who  did  not  seek 
their  applause,  but  was  concerned  for  th.-ir  best  interests; 


Ex.    115.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  277 

and  who,  from  a  principle  of  unfeigned  love,  earnestly 
endeavored  to  lead  them  in  the  right  way.     And  the 

10  effect,  in  some  measure,  corresponded  to  the  design. 
They  did  not  amuse  themselves  with  commending  his 
discourses  ;  but  being  moved  and  persuaded  by  what  he 
said,  entered  into  his  views,  felt  his  passions,  and  were 
willing  for  a  time,  at  least,  to  comply  with  all  his  requests. 

15  The  charm,  however,  was  nothing  else  but  the  power  of 
his  irresistible  eloquence  ;  in  which  respect  it  is  not  easy 
to  say,  whether  he  was  ever  excelled  either  in  ancient  or 
modern  times. 

He  had  a  strong  and  musical  voice,  and  a  wonderful 

20  command  of  it.  His  pronunciation  was  not  only  proper, 
but  manly  and  graceful.  Nor  was  he  ever  at  a  loss  for 
the  most  natural  and  strong  expressions.  Yet,  these  in 
him  were  but  lower  qualities. 

The  grand  sources  of  his  eloquence  were  an  exceeding 

25  lively  imagination,  which  made  people  think  they  saw 
what  he  described  ;  an  action  still  more  lively,  if  possible, 
by  which,  while  every  accent  of  his  voice  spoke  to  the  ear, 
every  feature  of  his  face,  every  motion  of  his  hands,  and 
every  gesture  spoke  to  the  eye. 

30  An  intimate  friend  of  the  infidel  Hume,  asked  him 
what  he  thought  of  Mr.  Whitefield's  preaching;  for  he 
had  listened  to  the  latter  part  of  one  of  his  sermons  at 
Edinburgh.  "  He  is,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Hume,  "  the  most 
ingenious  preacher  I  ever  heard.  It  is  worth  while  to  go 

35  twenty  miles  to  hear  him."  He  then  repeated  the  fol- 
lowing passage  which  he  heard,  towards  the  close  of  that 
discourse :  "  After  a  solemn  pause,  Mr.  Whitefield  thus 
addressed  his  numerous  audience  ; — '  The  attendant  an- 
gel is  just  about  to  leave  the  threshhold,  and  ascend  to 

40  heaven.  And  shall  he  ascend  and  not  bear  with  him  the 
news  of  one  sinner,  among  all  this  multitude,  reclaimed 
from  the  error  of  his  ways  ?'  To  give  the  greater  effect 
to  this  exclamation,  he  stamped  with  his  foot,  lifted  up 
his  hands  and  eyes  to  heaven,  and  with  gushing  tears, 

45  cried  aloud,  '  Stop,  Gabriel! — Stop,  Gabriel! — Stop,  ere 
you  enter  the  sacred  portals,  and  yet  carry  with  you  the 
news  of  one  sinner  converted  to  God.'  He  then,  in  the 
most  simple,  but  energetic  language,  described  a  Sav- 
ior's dying  love  to  sinful  man ;  so  that  almost  the  whole 

50  assembly  melted   into  tears.     This  address  was  accom- 


278  EXEBCISES. PART    II.         [Ex.    115, 

panied  with  such  animated,  yet  natural  action,  that  it 
surpassed  any  thing  1  ever  saw  or  heard  in  any  other 
preacher." 

Happy  had  it  been   for  poor  Hume,  had  he  received 

65  what  he  then  heard,  "  as  the  word  of  God,  and  not  as  the 
word  of  man !" 

Dr.  Franklin,  in  his  memoirs,  bears  witness  to  the 
extraordinary  effect  which  was  produced  by  Mr.  White- 
field's  preaching  in  America  ;  and  relates  an  anecdote 

60  equally  characteristic  of  the  preacher  and  of  himself. 
"  I  happened,"  says  the  doctor,  "  to  attend  one  of  his 
sermons,  in  the  course  of  which  I  perceived  he  intended 
to  finish  with  a  collection,  and  I  silently  resolved  he 
should  get  nothing  from  me.  I  had  in  my  pocket  a 

65  handful  of  copper  money,  three  or  four  silver  dollars, 
and  five  pistoles  in  gold.  As  he  proceeded,  1  began  to 
soften,  and  concluded  to  give  the  copper.  Another 
stroke  of  his  oratory  made  me  ashamed  of  that,  and  de- 
termined me  to  give  the  silver  ;  and  he  finished  so  adrai- 

70  rably,  that  I  emptied  my  pocket  wholly  into  the  col- 
lector's dish,  gold  and  all.  At  this  sermon  there  was 
also  one  of  our  club ;  who,  being  of  my  sentiment*  re- 
specting the  building  in  Georgia,  and  suspecting  a  col- 
lection might  be  intended,  had  by  precaution  emptied 

75  his  pockets  before  he  came  from  home  ;  towards  the 
conclusion  of  the  discourse,  however,  he  felt  a  strong 
inclination  to  give,  and  applied  to  a  neighbor  who  stood 
near  him,  to  lend  him  "some  money  for  the  purpose. 
The  request  was  fortunately  made  to  perhaps  the  only 

80  man   in  the   company   who  had   the   firmness  not  to   be 

affected    by  tlu-   pn-nrher.      His   answer  was,    'At  any 

othfr   time,    friend    Hodgkinson,   I   would    lend   to  thee 

y ;  hut  not  now,  for  thee  seems  to  be  out  of  thy 

right  senses.' " 


BCHH   116. 
Satan  t  Lamentation. — MILTON. 

O  had  his  pow'rful  destiny  ordain'd 
Mi-  some  infirior  angrl.  I  had  stood 
Then  happy  ;  no  unbounded  hope  had  raised 
Ambition.     Yet  why  not  ?     Some  other  power 


Ex.    116.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  279 

5  As  great  might  have  aspired,  and  me,  though  mean, 

Drawn  to  his  part ;  but  other  pow'rs  as  great 

Fell  not,  but  stand  unshaken,  from  within 

Or  from  without,  to  all  temptations  arm'd. 

Hadst  thou  the  same  free  will  and  pow'r  to  stand  ? 
10  Thou  hadst :  Whom  hast  thou  then,  or  what,  t'  accuse, 

But  heaven's  free  love  dealt  equally  to  all  ? 

Me  miserable  !  which  way  shall  I  fly  * 

Infinite  wrath,  and  infinite  despair  ? 

Which  way  I  fly  is  hell ;  myself  am  hell ; 
15  And,  in  the  lowest  deep,  a  lower  deep 

Still  threat'ning  to  devour  me,  opens  wide, 

To  which  the  hell  I  suffer  seems  a  heaven. 

O  then  at  last  relent :  Is  there  no  place 

Left  for  repentance,  none  for  pardon  left  ? 
20  None  left  but  by  submission  ;  and  that  word 

Disdain  forbids  me,  and  my  dread  of  shame 

Among  the  sp'rits  beneath,  whom  I  seduced 

With  other  promises  and  other  vaunts 

Than  to  submit,  boasting  I  could  subdue 
25  Th'  Omnipotent.     Ah,  me  !  they  little  know 

How  dearly  I  abide  that  boast  so  vain ! 

Under  what  torments  inwardly  I  groan, 

While  they  adore  me  on  the  throne  of  hell ! 

With  diadem  and  scepter  high  advanced 
30  The  lower  still  I  fall,  only  supreme 

In  misery  :  Such  joy  ambition  finds. 

But  say  I  could  repent,  and  could  obtain, 

By  act  of  grace,  my  former  state  ;  how  soon 

Would  hight  recall  high  thoughts,  how  soon  unsay 
35  What  feign'd  submission  swore  ?  ease  would  recant 

Vows 'made  in  pain,  as  violent  and  void. 

This  knows  my  punisher :  therefore  as  far 

From  granting  he,  as  I  from  begging  peace : 

All  hope  excluded  thus,  behold  instead 
40  Of  us  outcast,  exiled,  his  new  delight, 

Mankind  created,  and  for  him  this  world. 

So  farewell  hope,  and  with  hope  farewell  fear, 

Farewell  remorse :  All  good  to  me  is  lost. 


IIEECISIU. PART    M.  [Ex.    117. 

BXKIU'ISi:   117. 
Eloquence  of  Sher, 

Public  curiosity  was  scarcely  ever  so  sirm 

ested   us  (in   the  day  when  Mr.  Sheridan  \\as  to  speak  on 

the  Begum  charge  on  the  impeachment  of  Mr.  Hastings. 

,    The  avenues  leading  to  the  hall  were  filled  with  persons  of 

6  the  first  distinction,  many  of  them  peeresses  in  full  dress, 

who  waited  in  the  open  air  for  upwards  of  an  hour  and 

a  half,  before  the  gates  were   opened,   \vhen  the  crowd 

pressed  so  eagerly  forward,  that  many  persons  had  nearly 

perished.     No  extract  can  do  justice  to  this  speech  ;  the 

10  following  is  a  partial  specimen  of  its  power : 

"  When  we  hear  the  description  of  the  paroxysm,  fe- 
ver, and  delirium,  into  which  despair  hud  thrown  the  na- 
tives, when  on  the  banks  of  the  polluted  Ganges,  panting 
for  death,  they  tore  more  widely  open  the  lips  of  their 

15  gaping  wounds,  to  accelerate  their  dissolution,  and  while 
their  blood  was  issuing,  presented  their  ghastly  eyes  to 
Heaven,  breathing  their  last  and  fervent  prayer,  that  the 
dry  earth  might  not  be  >ull'>-ivd  to  drink  their  blood,  but 
that  it  might  rise  up  to  the  throne  of  God,  and  rouse  the 

20  eternal  Providence  to  avenge  the  wrongs  of  tl.i-ir  coun- 
try'; what  motive,  could  ha\e  such  inlluence  in  their  bo- 
som ?  what  motive! — That  which  n  common 
parent,  plants  in  the  bottom  of  man,  and  which,  though  it 
may  be  less  active  in  the  Indian  than  in  the  Englishman, 

25  is  still  congenial  with.  ;.n<l  makes   part  of  his  being; — 

that  feeling  which  tells  him,  that  man  w.-is  never  made  to 

rty  of  man;   but  that,  uhen   through   pride 

and    insolence  of  power,   one    human   creature  dares  to 

tvranni/'  .;li»  r,  it  is  a  power  usurped,  and  resist- 

30  ance  is  a  duty  ; — that  feeling  which  tells  him.  that  all 
power  is  delegated  for  the  good,  not  for  the  injury  of  Un- 
people, and  that  when  it  is  converted  fr.im  th«-  original 
purpose,  the  compact  is  broken,  and  the  right  i>  to  be  re- 
sumed ; — that  principle  wl-.irh  tells  him  that  resistance  to 

85  power  usui;  n-ly  a  duty  which  he  owes  to 

himself  and  to  Iris  neighbor,  but  a  duty  which  he  owes  to 
his  God,  in  asserting  and  maintaining  tin4  rank  which  he 
gave  him  in  the  creation  !  to  that  common  God,  who, 
where  he  gives  the  form  of  man,  whatever  may  be  the 


Ex.    117.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  281 

40  complexion,  gives  also  the  feelings  and  the  rights  of  man, 
-t—that  principle,  which  neither  the  rudeness  of  ignorance 
can  stifle,  nor  the  enervation  of  refinement  extinguish  ! — 
that  principle,  which  makes  it  base  for  a  man  to  suffer 
when  he  ought  to  act,  which  tending  to  preserve  to  the 

45  species  the  original  designations  of  Providence,  spurns  at 
the  arrogant  distinctions  of  man,  and  vindicates  the  inde- 
pendent quality  of  his  race. 

"  The  Majesty  of  Justice,  in  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Hastings, 
is  a  being  of  terrific  horror — a  dreadful  idol,  placed  in 

50  the  gloom  of  graves,  accessible  only  to  cringing  suppli- 
cation, and  which  must  be  approached  with  offerings, 
and  worshiped  by  sacrifice.  The  Majesty  of  Mr.  Has- 
tings is  a  being,  whose  decrees  are  written  with  blood, 
and  whose  oracles  are  at  once  secure  and  terrible.  From 

55  such  an  idol  I  turn  mine  eyes  with  horror — I  turn  them 
here  to  this  dignified  and  high  tribunal,  where  the  Maj- 
esty of  Justice  really  sits  enthroned.  Here  I  perceive 
the  Majesty  of  Justice  in  her  proper  robes  of  truth  and 
mercy — chaste  and  simple — accessible  and  patient — aw- 

60  ful  without  severity, — inquisitive,  without  meanness.  I 
see  her  enthroned  and  sitting  in  judgment  on  a  great 
and  momentous  cause,  in  which  the  happiness  of  millions 
is  involved. — Pardon  me,  my  lords,  if  I  presume  to  say, 
that  in  the  decision  of  this  great  cause,  you  are  to  be  en- 

65  vied,  as  well  as  venerated.  You  possess  the  highest  dis- 
tinction of  the  human  character ;  for  when  you  render 
your  ultimate  voice  on  this  cause,  illustrating  the  dignity 
of  the  ancestors  from  whom  -you  spring — justifying  the 
solemn  asseveration  which  you  make — vindicating  the 

70  people  of  whom  you  are  a  part — and  manifesting  the  in- 
telligence of  the  times  in  which  you  live — you  will  do 
such  an  act  of  mercy,  and  blessing  to  man,  as  no  men 
but  yourselves  are  able  to  grant." 

On  the  conclusion  of  Mr.  Sheridan's  speech,  the  whole 

"75  assembly,  members,  peers,  and  strangers,  involuntarily 
joined  in  a  tumult  of  applause,  and  adopted  a  mode  of 
expressing  their  approbation  new  and  irregular  in  that 
House,  by  loudly  and  repeatedly  clapping  their  hands. 
A  motion  was  immediately  made  and  carried  for  an  ad- 

80  journment,  that  the  members,  who  were  in  a  state  of  de- 
lirious insensibility,  from  the  talismanic  influence  of  such 
powerful  eloquence,  might  have  time  to  collect  their 


EXERCISE*.— PART    II.         [Ex.  117,  118 

scattered  senses  for  the  exercises  of  a  sober  judgment. 
Tliis  motion  was  made  by  Mr.  Pitt,  who  dcehpcd  that 
85  this  speech  "  surpassed  all  the  eloquence  of  ancient  and 
modern  times,  and  possesses  every  tiling  that  genius 
<>r  art  could  furnish,  to  agitate  and  control  the  human 
mind." 

•  He  has  this  day,"  said  Mr.  Burke,  "surprised  the 
90  thousands  who  hung  with  iiiptvip  <>n  Ins  accents,  by  surh 
an  array  of  talents,  such  an  exhibition  of  capacity,  such 
a  display  of  powers,  as  are  unparalleled  in  tin*  annals  of 
oratory  !  a  display  that  reflects  the  highest  honor  upon 
himself — lustre  upon  letters — renown  upon  parliament — 
95  glory  upon  the  country.  Of  all  species  of  rhetoric,  of 
every  kind  of  eloquence  that  has  been  witnessed  or  re- 
corded, either  iu  ancient  or  modem  times  :  whatever  the 
acuteness  of  the  bar,  the  dignity  of  the  senate,  the  so- 
lidity of  the  judgment  seat,  and  the  sacred  morality  of 

100  the  pulpit,  have  hitherto  furnished,  nothing  has  sur- 
passed, nothing  has  equalled,  what  we  have  this  day 
heard  in  Westminister  hall.  No  holy  seer  of  religion, 
no  sage,  no  statesman,  no  orator,  no  man  of  any  literary 
description  whatever,  has  come  up  in  the  one  instance, 

105  to  the  pure  sentiments  of  morality  ;  or,  in  the  other,  to 
that  variety  of  knowledge,  force  of  imagination,  propriety 
and  vivacity  of  allusion,  beauty  and  elegance  of  diction, 
strength  and  copiousness  of  style,  pathos  and  sublimity 
of  conception,  to  which  we  have  this  day  listened  with 

110  ardor  and  admiration.  From  poetry  up  to  eloquence, 
there  is  not  a  species  of  composition,  of  which  a  com- 
plete and  perfect  specimen  might  not  from  that  single 
speech  be  culled  and  collet ' 


r.xr.unsK  us.  . 

Spirit  of  the  American  Revolution. — JOSIAH  Qt  INCT,  JK. 

Be  not  deceived,  my  countrymen.     Believe  not  these 
venal  hirelings,  when   they    would  cajole  you  by  their 
Hubtilties  into  submission,  or  frighten  you  1>\  their  vapor- 
ings  into  compliance.     When  they  strive  to  flatter  you 
6  by  the  terms  "  moderation   and    prudence."  tell  them 
that  calmness  and  deliberation  are  to  guide  the  judg- 
nt  ;    courage  and    intrepidity  command  the  action. 
When  they  endeavor  to  make  us  "  perceive  our  inabil- 


Ex.   118.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  283 

ity  to  oppose  our  mother  country,"  let  us  boldly  answer  ; 

10  — In  defence  of  our  civil  and  religious  rights,  we  dare 
oppose  the  world ;  with  the  God  of  armies  on  our  side, 
even  the  God  who  fought  our  fathers'  battles,  we  fear  not 
the  hour  of  trial,  though  the  hosts  of  our  enemies  should 
cover  the  field  like  locusts.  If  this  be  enthusiasm,  we 

15  will  live  and  die  enthusiasts. 

Blandishments  will  not  fascinate  us,  nor  will  threats 
of  a  "halter"  intimidate.  For,  under  God,  we  are  de- 
termined, that  wheresoever,  whensoever,  or  howsoever 
we  shall  be  called  to  make  our  exit,  we  will  die  freemen. 

20  Well  do  we  know,  that  all  the  regalia  of  this  world  can- 
not dignify  the  death  of  a  villain,  nor  diminish  the  igno- 
miny with  which  a  slave  shall  quit  existence.  Neither 
can  it  taint  the  unblemished  honor  of  a  son  of  freedom, 
though  he  should  make  his  departure  on  the  already  pre- 
25  pared  gibbet,  or  be  dragged  to  the  newly  erected  scaffold 
for  execution.  With  the  plaudits  of  his  country,  and 
what  is  more,  the  plaudits  of  his  conscience,  he  will  go 
off  the  stage.  The  history  of  his  life  his  children  shall 
venerate.  The  virtues  of  their  sire  shall  excite  their 

30  emulation. 

Who  has  the  front  to  ask,  Wherefore  do  you  com- 
plain ?  Who  dares  assert  that  every  thing  worth  living 
for  is  not  lost  when  a  nation  is  enslaved  ?  Are  not  pen- 
sioners, stipendiaries,  and  salary-men,  unknown  before, 

35  hourly  multiplying  upon  us,  to  riot  in  the  spoils  of  miser- 
able America  ?  Does  not  every  eastern  gale  waft  us 
some  new  insect,  even  of  that  devouring  kind,  which  eat 
up  every  green  thing  ?  Is  not  the  bread  taken  out  of  the 
children's  mouths  and  given  unto  the  dogs  ?  Are  not  our 

40  estates  given  to  corrupt  sycophants,  without  a  design,  or 
even  a  pretence  of  soliciting  our  assent ;  and  our  lives 
put  into  the  hands  of  those  whose  tender  mercies  are 
cruelties  ?  Has  not  an  authority  in  a  distant  land,  in  the 
most  public  manner,  proclaimed  a  right  of  disposing  of 

45  the  all  of  Americans  ?  In  short,  what  have  we  to  lose  ? 
What  have  we  to  fear  ?  Are  not  our  distresses  more 
than  we  can  bear  ?  And,  to  finish  all,  are  not  our  cities 
in  a  time  of  profound  peace,  filled  with  standing  armies, 
to  preclude  from  us  that  last  solace  of  the  wretched — to 

60  open  their  mouths  in  complaint,  and  send  forth  their  cries 
in  bitterness  of  heart  ? 


KXERC18E8. PART    II.          [Ex.    118,    119. 

But  is  there  no  ray  of  hope?  Is  not  Great  Britain  in- 
habited by  the  children  of  those  ren.'W.-d  barons,  who 
waded  through  seas  of  crimson  gore  to  establish  their 

55  liberty  ?  and  will  they  not  allow  us,  their  fellow-men,  to 
enjoy  that  freedom  which  we  claim  from  nature,  which 
is  confirmed  by  our  constitution,  and  which  they  pretend 

(  so  highly  to  value '.'  Were  n  tyrant  to  conquer  us,  the 
chains  of  slavery,  when  opposition  should  become  use- 

60  less,  might  be  supportable,  but  to  be  shackled  t>\ 

lishmen, — by  our  equals, — is  not  to  be  borne.  By  the 
sweat  of  our  brow  we  earn  the  little  we  possess ;  from 
nature  we  derive  the  common  rights  of  man  ;  and  by 
charter  we  claim  the  liberties  of  Britons.  Shall  we.  dare 

65  we,  pusillanimously  surrender  our  birthright?  Is  the 
obligation  to  our  fathers  discharged  ?  Is  the  debt  we 
owe  posterity  paid  '.'  Answer  me,  thou  coward,  who 
hidest  thyself  in  the  hour  of  trial  !  If  there  is  no  reward 
in  this  life,  no  pri/.e  of  glorv  in  the  next,  capable  of  animat- 

70  ing  thy  dastard  soul,  think  and  tremble,  thou  miscreant ! 
at  the  whips  and  stripes  thy  master  shall  lash  thee  with 
on  earth, — and  the  flames  and  scorpions  thy  second  mas- 
ter shall  torment  thee  with  hereafter  ! 

Oh,  my   countrymen !    what   will     our    children    say, 

75  when  th<  y  read  the  history  of  these  times,  should  they 
find  thai  we  tamely  gave  away,  without  one  noble  strug- 
gle, the  most  invaluable  of  earthly  blessings  !  As  they 
drag  the  galling  chain  will  they  not  execrate  us?  If  we 
have  any  respect  for  things  sacred,  any  regard  to  the 

80  dearest  treasure  on  earth  ;  if  we  have  one  tender  sentiment 
for  posterity;  if  we  would  not  \te  despised  by  the  whole 
world  ; — let  us,  in  the  most  opi-u,  solemn  manner,  and  with 
determined  fortitude,  swear — We  will  die,  if  we  cannot 
live  freemen. 

85  While  we  have  equity,  justice,  nnd  God  on  our  side, 
tyranny,  spiritual,  or  temporal,  shall  never  ride  triumph- 
ant in  a  land  inhabit. -d  by  Knglishmen. 


HXKKCISK  119. 

.-/>«. — PHILIPS. 

I  appeal   to   History'     Tell  me,  thou  reverrnd    chroni- 
cler of  the  grave,  can  all   the  illusions  of  ambition   n  -il 
ized,  can  all  the  wealth  of  n  universal  commerce,  can  all 


Ex.    119.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  285 

the  achievements  of  successful  heroism,  or  all  the  estab- 
5  lishments  of  this  world's  wisdom,  secure  to  empire  the 
permanency  of  its  possessions  '?  Alas !  Troy  thought 
so  once ;  yet  the  land  of  Priam  lives  only  in  song ! 
Thebes  thought  so  once ;  yet  her  hundred  gates  have 
crumbled,  and  her  very  tombs  are  but  as  the  dust  they 

10  were  vainly  intended  to  commemorate !  So  thought 
Palmyra — where  is  she  ?  So  thought  the  countries  of 
Demosthenes  and  the  Spartan ;  yet  Leonidas  is  tram- 
pled by  the  timid  slave,  and  Athens  insulted  by  the  ser- 
vile, mindless,  and  enervate  Ottoman !  In  his  hurried 

1»>  march,  Time  has  but  looked  at  their  imagined  immor- 
tality ;  and  all  its  vanities,  from  the  palace  to  the  tomb, 
have,  with  their  ruins,  erased  the  very  impression  of 
his  footsteps !  The  days  of  their  glbry  are  as  if  they  had 
never  been ;  and  the  island,  that  was  then  a  speck,  rude 

20  and  neglected  in  the  barren  ocean,  now  rivals  the  ubi- 
quity of  their  commerce,  the  glory  of  their  arms,  the 
fame  of  their  philosophy,  the  eloquence  of  their  senate, 
and  the  inspiration  of  their  bards  !  Who  shall  say,  then, 
contemplating  the  past,  that  England,  proud  and  potent 

25  as  she  appears,  may  not,  one  day,  be  what  Athens  is, 
and  the  young  America  yet  soar  to  be  what  Athens 
was  !  Who  shall  say,  that,  when  the  European  column 
shall  have  mouldered,  and  the  night  of  barbarism  ob- 
scured its  very  ruins,  that  mighty  continent  may  not 

30  emerge  from  the  horizon,  to  rule,  for  its  time,  sovereign 
of  the  ascendant  \  *  *  * 

Sir,  it  matters  very  little  what  immediate  spot  may 
have  been  the  birthplace  of  such  a  man  as  WASHING- 
TON. No  people  can  claim,  no  country  can  appropriate 

35  him.  The  boon  of  Providence  to  the  human  race,  his 
fame  is  eternity,  and  his  residence  creation.  Though 
it  was  the  defeat  of  our  arms,  and  the  disgrace  of  our 
policy,  I  almost  bless  the  convulsion  in  which  he  had 
his  origin.  If  the  heavens  thundered,  and  the  earth 

40  rocked,  yet,  when  the  storm  had  past,  how  pure  was 
the  climate  that  it  cleared  !  how  bright,  in  the  brow  of 
the  firmament,  was  the  planet  which  it  revealed  to  us  ! 
In  the  production  of  Washington  it  does  really  appear 
as  if  nature  was  endeavoring  to  improve  upon  herself, 

45  and  that  all  the  virtues  of  the  ancient  world  were  but  so 
many  studies  preparatory  to  the  patriot  of  the  new.  In- 


KXKKC1SE8.  -  PART    II.          [Ex. 


dividual  instances,  n->  do-,t!>t,  then-  were.  splendid  exem- 
plifications of  SMI)).-  MM^ul.-ir  qualification:  Onesar  was 
merciful,  Scipio  was  o.niinent,  Hannibal  was  patient  ; 

50  but  it  was  reserved  for  Washington  to  Mend  them  all 
in  one,  and,  lik«-  the  lovely  masterpiece  of  the  Grecian 
artist,  to  exhibit,  in  one  glow  of  associated  beauty,  the 
pride  of  every  model,  and  the  perfection  of  every  mas- 
ter. As  a  general,  he  marshaled  the  peasant  into  a 

55  veteran,  and  supplied  by  discipline  the  absence  of  ex- 
perience ;  as  a  statesman,  he  enlarged  the  policy  of  the 
cabinet  into  the  most  comprehensive  system  of  general 
advantage  ;  and  such  was  the  wisdom  of  his  views,  and 
the  philosophy  of  his  counsels,  that,  to  the  soldier  and 

60  the  statesman,  he  almost  added  the  character  of  the 
sage!  A  conquero'r,  he  was  untainted  with  the  crime 
of  blood  ;  a  revolutionist,  he  was  free  from  any  stain  of 
treason  ;  for  aggression  commenced  the  contest,  and 
his  country  called  him  to  the  command.  Liberty  un- 

6.5  sheathed  his  sword,  necessity  stained,  victory  returned  it. 
If  he  had  paused  here,  history  might  have  doubted  what 
station  to  assign  him  ;  whether  at  the  head  of  her  citizrns, 
or  her  soldiers,  her  heroes,  or  her  patriots.  But  the  last 
glorious  act  crowns  his  career,  and  banishes  all  hesitation. 

70  Who,  like  Washington,  after  having  emancipated  a  hem- 
isphere, resigned  its  crown,  and  preferred  the  retirement 
of  domestic  life  to  the  adoration  of  a  land  he  might  be 
almost  said  to  have  created. 

Happy,   proud  America!      The  lightnings  of  heaven 

75  yielded  to  your  philosophy  !  The  temptations  of  earth 
could  not  seduce  your  patriotism  ! 


FAT.  WISH   1-JO. 

<>/  177."). — PATRICK  II 

Mr.  ilenrv  r«'M-  with  a  majesty  unusual    to  him    in  an 

'(limn,  and  with  all   that   self-possession  by  which    he 

was  so  invariably  distinguiflhod.     "  No  man,"  he  said, 

"thought    more  highly  than   he  did  <>f  th"   patriotism,  as 

5  well  as  abilities,  of  t!  'lliy  i;entl«inien  who  had 

just  addn-sv.-d  the  Hous.-.      Hut   dilf.-n-nt    men   often  saw 

the  same   Mihject   in   ditl'.-rcnt   lights  ;  and,  therefore,  he 

hoped  it  would  not  be  thought  disrespectful  to  those  gen- 


Ex.   120.]  EXERCISES.— -PART    II.  287 

tleraen,  if,  entertaining  as  he  did,  opinions  of  a  character 

10  very  opposite  to  theirs,  he  should  speak  forth  his  senti- 
ments freely,  and  without  reserve.     This  was  no  time  for 
ceremony.     The  question  before  the  House  was  one  of 
awful  moment  to  this  country."     He  proceeded  thus : 
"  MR.  PRESIDENT — It  is  natural  for  man  to  indulge  in 

15  the  illusions  of  hope.  We  are  apt  to  shut  our  eyes  against 
a  painful  truth  ;  and  listen  to  the  song  of  that  siren  till 
she  transforms  us  into  beasts.  Is  this  the  part  of  wise 
men,  engaged  in  a  great  and  arduous  struggle  for  liberty  ? 
Are  we  disposed  to  be  of  the  number  of  those,  who,  hav- 

20  ing  eyes,  see  not,  and  having  ears,  hear  not,  the  things 
which  so  nearly  concern  their  temporal  salvation  ?  For 
my  part,  whatever  anguish  of  spirit  it  may  cost,  I  am 
willing  to  know  the  whole  truth  ;  to  know  the  worst,  and 
to  provide  for  it. 

25  I  have  but  one  lamp,  by  which  my  feet  are  guided ; 
and  that  is  the  lamp  of  experience.  I  know  of  no  way 
of  judging  of  the  future  but  by  the  past.  And,  judging 
by  the  past,  I  wish  to  know  what  there  has  been  in  the 
conduct  of  the  British  ministry,  for  the  last  ten  years,  to 

30  justify  those  hopes  with  which  gentlemen  have  been 
pleased  to  solace  themselves  and  the  House  ?  Is  it  that 
insidious  smile,  with  which  our  petition  has  been  lately 
received  ?  Trust  it  not,  sir ;  it  will  prove  a  snare  to 
your  feet.  Suffer  not  yourselves  to  be  betrayed  with  a 

35  kiss.  Ask  yourselves  how  this  gracious  reception  of  our 
petition  comports  with  those  warlike  preparations,  which 
cover  our  waters  and  darken  our  land.  Are  fleets  and 
armies  necessary  to  a  work  of  love  and  reconciliation? 
Have  we  shown  ourselves  so  unwilling  to  be  reconciled, 

40  that  force  must  be  called  in  to  win  back  our  love  ?  Let 
us  not  deceive  ourselves,  sir.  These  are  the  implements 
of  war  and  subjugation — the  last  arguments  to  which 
kings  resort.  I  ask  gentlemen,  sir,  what  means  this 
martial  array,  if  its  purpose  be  not  to  force  us  to  sub- 

4  5  mission  ?  Can  gentlemen  assign  any  other  possible  mo- 
tive for  it  ?  Has  Great  Britain  any  enemy,  in  this  quar- 
ter of  the  world,  to  call  for  all  this  accumulation  of 
navies  and  armies  ?  No,  sir,  she  has  none.  They  are 
meant  for  us :  they  can  be  meant  for  no  other.  They 

50  are  sent  over  to  bind  and  rivet  upon  us  those  chains, 
which  the  British  ministry  have  been  so  long  forging. 


KCJSLS.  -  PAET    II. 


And  what  have  w  e  to  oj.yxc  to  them?  Shall  wo  try 
«rj;  -  trying  that  for  the  last 

ted  \\,    an\  upon  the 

55  sui>  Nothing.       We  have  held  the  subject   up  in 

every  light  of  which  it  is  capalile  ;  but  it  has  been  all  in 
vain.  Shall  we  r>  .treaty  and  humble  supplica- 

tion? What  ttrms  shall  we  find,  which  have  not  been 
already  uclt  </</.<.'<//  Let  us  not,  I  beseech  you,  sir,  de- 

60  ceive  ourselves  longer.     Sir,   we   have  done   every  thing 
that  could    \  •>)   avert  the   storm   which   is  now- 

coming  on.      We   ha\e   petitioned;   we   h.. 
ed  ;  we  have  supplicated;  we  lia\c  pr-i-irated  ourselves 
before  the  throne,  and   have  implored   its  interposition  to 

65  an  ,  raiimcal   hands  of  the   ministry    and   parlia- 

ment.    Our    petition^    ha\«-    been  .-hinted;    our  reiuon- 

.ares    have  produced   additional    violence  and   insult; 

our   supplications    have   been   disregarded  ;  (0)   and    we 

have  been  spurned,  with  contempt,  from  the  foot  of  the 

70  throne.     In    vain,  after   these    thin  tn   indulge 

the  fond  hope  of  peace  and  reconciliation.  There  is  no 
longer  any  r<#im  for  hope.  If  we  wish  to  !>«•  free  ;  if  we 
mean  to  preserve  inviolate  those  in-  privileges, 

for  which  we  have  been  so  long  contending;  if  we  mean 

75  not  basely  to  abandon  the  noble  sr  i  which  we 

have  been  so  long  engaged,  and  whieh  we  have  pledged 
ourselves  never  to  abandon,  until  the  -bject 

of  our  contest  shall  be  obtained  —  (0)  we  must  jiyht. 
I  repent  it!  —  Sir,  we  must  fiyl.  ,1  to  arms 

80  and   to   the   God  of    hosts,    is    all     ti  ft   us. 

They  tell  us,  sir,  that  we  are  weak  —  unal-le  to  cbpe 
with  so  formidable  an  adversary.  But  when  shall  we 
be  Will  it  be  the  next  next 

year?     Will  it  be  when  we   are   tot  and 

85   when  a  I>riti>h  t,r>urd  shall   be   Bl 

Shall  we  gat:  'ih   by   irresolution  and    m.\- 

!1    we   acquire   the  '.stance  by 

Iving  supinelv  <-:i  our  h:n  k-,  and  hugging  the  delu-ive 
phantom  of  hope,  until  our  •  IKMUH!  us 

00  hand  and  foot?     Sir,   we  make  a 

proper  use  of  those  means   which   the   God   of   i 
hath    placed   in  our  power.     Three  millions   of   pe«,j,le. 
armed  in  the  hoiv  cause  of  liberty,  and  i: 
try  as  that  which  we  possess,  are  invincible  by  any 


EX.    120,  121.]         EXERCISES. PART    II.  289 

95  which  our  enemy  can  send  against  us.  Besides,  sir,  we 
shall  not  fight  our  battles  alone.  There  is  a  just  God, 
who  presides  over  the  destinies  of  nations,  and  who  will 
raise  up  friends  to  fight  our  battles  for  us.  The  battle, 
sir,  is  not  to  the  strong  alone ;  it  is  to  the  vigilant,  the 

100  active,  the  brave.  Besides,  sir,  we  have  no  election. 
If  we  were  base  enough  to  desire  it,  it  is  now  too  late 
to  retire  from  the  contest.  There  is  no  retreat,  but  in 
submission  and  slavery  !  Our  chains  are  forged.  Their 
clanking  may  be  heard  on  the  plains  of  Boston  !  (0)  The 

105  war  is  inevitable — and  let  it  come  ! — I  repeat  it,  sir,  let  it 
come  ! 

It  is  vain,  sir,  to  extenuate  the  matter.  Gentlemen 
may  cry,  peace,  peace — but  there  is  no  peace.  The  war 
is  actually  begun  ! 

110  The  next  gale  that  sweeps  from  the  north,  will  bring- 
to  our  ears  the  clash  of  resounding  arms  !  Our  brethren 
are  already  in  the  field  !  Why  stand  we  here  idle  !  What 
is  it  that  gentlemen  wish  ?  what  would  they  have  ?  Is 
life  so  dear,  or  peace  so  sweet,  as  to  be  purchased  at  the 

115  price  of  chains  and  slavery?  (0)  Forbid  it,  Almighty  God. 
— I  know  not  what  course  others  may  take,  but  as  for 
me,  give  me  liberty,  or  give  me  death  /" 

He  took  his  seat.  No  murmur  of  applause  was  heard. 
The  effect  was  too  deep.  After  the  trance  of  a  moment, 

120  several  members  started  from  their  seats.  The  cry,  "to 
arms,"  seemed  to  quiver  on  every  lip,  and  gleam  from 
every  eye !  Richard  H.  Lee  arose  and  supported  Mr. 
Henry,  with  his  usual  spirit  and  elegance.  But  his  mel- 
ody was  lost  amidst  the  agitations  of  that  ocean,  which 

125  the  master  spirit  of  the  storm  had  lifted  up  on  high. 
That  supernatural  voice  still  sounded  in  their  ears  and 
shivered  along  their  arteries.  They  heard,  in  every 
pause,  the  cry  of  liberty  or  death.  They  became  im- 
patient of  speech — their  souls  were  on  fire  for  action. 


EXERCISE  121. 
The  discontented  Pendulum. — JANE  TAYLOR. 

An  old  clock  that  had  stood  for  fifty  years  in  a  farm- 
er's kitchen,  without  giving  its  owner  any  cause  of 
complaint,  early  one  summer's  morning,  before  the  fam- 

rt 


2»0  KXBKC1SK8. PART    II.  [H\.    1 VJ 1 

ily  was  stirring,  suddenly  stopped.       I'pon  this,  the  dial- 
5  plate  (if  w>  lit   tin-   fable),  changed    countenance 

with  alarm ;  the  hands  made  a  vain  cti'ort  to  continue 
their  course  ;  the  wheels  remained  motionless  with  sur- 
prise; the  weights  hung  sj  •  ..  member  Ml 
disposed  to  lay  the  blame  on  the  others.  At  length  the 

10  dial  instituted  a  formal  inquiry  as  to  the  cause  of 

nation,  when  hands,  wheels,  weights,  with  one  voice,  pro- 
tested their  innocence. 

But  now  a  faint  tick  was  heard  below  frum  the  pendu- 
lum, who  thus  spoke: — "I  confess  myself  to  be  the  sole 

15  cause  of  the  stoppage  !  and  I  am  willing,  for  the  general 
satisfaction,  to  assign  n  The  truth  is,  that  I  am 

tired  of  ticking."     Upon  hearing  this,  the.  old  clock  be- 
came so  enraged,  that  it  was  on  the  very  point  of  striking. 
"Lazy  win-  |"  .  vliiinied   the   dial-plate,  holding  up  its 

20  hands.     "Very   good!"    replied    the    pendulum,    "it  is 

ly  easy  for  you,   Mistress  Dial,  who  have  always,  as 

every  body  knows,  set  yourself  up  above  me, — it  is  vastly 

easy  for  you,  I  say,  to   accuse   other   people   of  h/.iness! 

You,  who  have   had  nothing  to  do  all   the  days  of  your 

25  life,  but  to  stare  people  in   th<  '  d  to  amuse  your- 

self with  watching  all  that  goes  on  in  the  kitchen  !  Think, 
I  beseech  you,  how  you  would  like  to  be  shut  up  for  life 
in  this  dark  closet,  and  to  wag  backwards  and  forwards, 
year  after  year,  as  [  do." 

30       "  As  to  that/'  said  the  dial,  "  is  there  not  a  window  in 
your  house,  on  purpose  for  you  to  look  through  ?" — "  For 
all  that,"  resumed  the  pendulum,   "it   is   very  dark  here  ; 
and,  although   there  is  a  window,  I    dare  not 
for   an    instant,   to  look  out  at   i  68,1   am   really 

36  tired  of  my   way  of  life;  and  if  you  wish,  I'll  tell 
how  I  took  this  di>gu->t  at  my  employment.      I    hap: 
this  morning  to  be   calculating  how   many  times  I  should 
have    to  tick   in  the  course  of  only  the  next  twenty-four 
hours  ;  perhaps  some  of  you,  above  there,  can  give  me  the 

40  exact  sum." 

The  minute-hand,  br-ing  quick  at  figures,  presently  re- 
plied,  "  Eighty-six  thousand  four  hundred  times."  "Ex- 
actly so,"  replied  the  pendulum.  "  Well,  1  appeal  to 
you  all,  if  tin  .light  of  this  was  not  enough  to 

45   fatigue  one  ;   and    when    1    bc^an   to  multiply  the  strokes 
of  one  day,  by  those  of  months  and  years,  really  it  is  no 


Ex.    121.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  291 

wonder  if  I  felt  discouraged  at  the  prospect ;  so,  after  a 
great  deal  of  reasoning  and  hesitation,  thinks  I  to  myself, 

50  I'll  stop." 

The  dial  could  scarcely  keep  its  countenance  during 
this  harangue ;  but  resuming  its  gravity,  thus  replied  : 
"  Dear  Mr.  Pendulum,  I  am  really  astonished  that  such 
a  useful,  industrious  person  as  yourself,  should  have  been 

55  overcome  by  this  sudden  action.  It  is  true,  you  have 
done  a  great  deal  of  work  in  your  time  ;  so  have  we  all, 
and  are  likely  to  do  ;  which  although  it  may  fatigue  us  to 
think  of,  the  question  is,  whether  it  will  fatigue  us  to  do. 
Would  you  now  do  me  the  favor  to  give  about  half  a 

60  dozen  strokes  to  illustrate  my  argument  ?" 

The  pendulum  complied,  and  ticked  six  times  in  its 
usual  pace.  "  Now,"  resumed  the  dial,  "  may  I  be  al- 
lowed to  inquire,  if  that  exertion  was  at  all  fatiguing  or 
disagreeable  to  you  ?"  "  Not  in  the  least,"  replied  the 

65  pendulum  ;  "it  is  not  of  six  strokes  that  I  complain,  nor 
of  sixty,  but  of  millions."  "  Very  good,"  replied  the 
dial ;  "  but  recollect  that  though  you  may  think  of  a  mil- 
lion strokes  in  an  instant,  you  are  required  to  execute  but 
one  ;  and  that  however  often  you  may  hereafter  have  to 

70  swing,  a  moment  will  always  be  given  you  to  swing  in." 
"  That  consideration  staggers  me,  I  confess,"  said  the 
pendulum."  "  Then  I  hope,"  resumed  the  dial-plate, 
"we  shall  all  immediately  return  to  our  duty;  for  the 
maids  will  lie  in  bed  if  we  stand  idling  thus." 

75  Upon  this  the  weights,  who  had  never  been  accused  of 
light  conduct,  used  all  their  influence  in  urging  him  to 
proceed  ;  when,  as  with  one  consent,  the  wheels  began  to 
turn,  the  hands  began  to  move,  the  pendulum  began  to 
swing,  and  to  its  credit,  ticked  as  loud  as  ever  ;  while  a 

80  red  beam  of  the  rising  sun  that  streamed  through  a  hole 
in  the  kitchen,  shining  full  upon  the  dial-plate,  it  bright- 
ened up,  as  if  nothing  had  been  the  matter. 

When  the  farmer  came  down  to  breakfast  that  morning, 
upon  looking  at  the  clock,  he  declared  that  his  watch  had 

85  gained  half  an  hour  in  the  night. 

MORAL. 

A  celebrated  modern  writer  says,  "  Take  care  of  the 
minutes,  and  the  hours  will  take  care  of  themselves." 


ii.      [Ex.  121, 


This  is  an  admirable  remark,  and  might  be  very  season- 
abl  '•'!  «hen  we  begin  to  be  "weary  in  well- 

90  doing,"  from  the  thought  of  having  much  to  do.     The 
present  moment  is  all  .  with  in  any  sense  ; 

the  j>;i>t  i-  irrecoverable,  tin-  future  is  uncertain;  nor  is 
it  fair  to  buni  .incut  with  tin?  weight  of  the  next. 

Sufficient  unto  the  //.•<  •  trouble  thereof.      If  we 

95   had  to  walk  a  hundred  in  mid  still  have  to  set 

but  one  step  at  .1  tune,  and  this  process  continued,  would 
infallibly  bring  us  to  our  journey's  end.  Fatigue  gCtte- 
rally  begins,  and  is  always  increased,  by  calculating  in  a 
ininir< 

100       Thus,  in  looking  forward  to  future  life,  let  us  recollect 
that  we  ha\e  n«.t  to  sustain  all  its  toil,  to  endure  all  its 
unter  all  its  crosses  at  once.     One  mo- 
ment comes  laden  with  its  own  little  burdens,  then  flies, 
and  is  succeeded  by  another  no  heavier  than  the  last : — 

105  if  one  could  be  borne,  so  can  another  and  another. 

It  seems  easier  to  do   right   to-morrow  than   to-day, 
merely  becau  'hat  when   to-morrow  comes, 

then  will  be  now.  Thus  life  passes  with  many,  in  reso- 
lutions for  the  future,  which  the  pi  -r  fulfills. 

110  It  is  not  thus  with  those,  who,  "  by  patient  continuance 
in  well-doing,  seek  for  glory,  honor,  and  immortality." 
Day  by  day,  minute  by  minute,  they  execute  the  appoint- 
ed task,  to  which  the  requisite  measure  ,,f  time  and 
strength  is  proportioned  ;  and  thus,  having  worked  while 

116  it  was  called  day,  they  at  length  rest  from  their  labors, 
and  their  works  •  us  then,  "whatever 

our  hands  find  to  do,  do  it  with  all  our  might,  recollect- 
ing that  now  is  the  proper  and  accepted  time." 


.ItCISF.    1-,-J. 
Valedictory  Hymn. — N.  ADAMS. 

i  by  the  Senior  Cla»«,  «t  ih«t  rln««-  <>f  thr  \nnlven*ry  Bxetcbei  la  the  Theo- 
logical Seiiiimuy.  Andovrr.  .Sept   189B. 

1   Beautiful  upon  the  mountains 

Are  the  messengers  of  peace, 
Publishing  the  news  of  pardon, 
Through  a  Savior's  righteousness; 

il  tidings 
Of  a  Savior's  righteousness  ; 


Ex.  122,  123.]       KXERCISES. — PART  ii.  293 

2  Hark  !  the  voice  of  Jesus,  calling, 

"  Heralds  of  my  Cross,  arise  ! 
Go,  and  publish  news  of  pardon, 

See  !  a  world  in  ruin  lies. 

Preach  salvation, 
Till  I  call  you  to  the  skies." 

3  Jesus,  we  obey  thy  summons, 

See  thy  servants  waiting  stand ; 
When  our  song  of  praise  is  ended, 

We  will  go  at  thy  command. 

Great  Redeemer  ! 
Guide  us  by  thine  own  right  hand. 

4  Scenes  of  love  and  sacred  friendship, 

We  will  bid  you  all  farewell ; 
O'er  the  earth's  wide  face  we  wander, 

News  of  Jesus'  love  to  tell. 

We  forever 
Now  must  part,  and  say,  Farewell. 

5  Often  have  we  join'd  these  voices, 

In  our  songs  of  social  praise, 
And  around  our  altar  bending, 

Prayer  at  morn  and  evening  raised. 

We  shall  never 
Here  again  unite  in  praise. 

6  Brethren,  may  we  meet  together 

On  the  mount  of  God  above ; 
Then  our  rapturous  hosannas 

Will  be  full  of  Jesus'  love. 

Savior,  bring  us 
Safely  to  thy  home  above. 


EXERCISE  123. 
Scene  from  Pizarro Pizarro  and  Gomez. — KOTZEBUS. 

Piz.  How  now,  Gomez,  what  bringest  thou  ? 

Gom.  On  yonder  hill,  among  the  palm  trees,  we  have  sur- 
prised an  old  Peruvian.  Escape  by  flight  he  could  not,  and 
we  seized  him  unresisting. 


U91  EXERCISES. PART    II.  [Hx.    128 

Pi:.  Drag  him  before  us.  \Qomez  leads  in  Orozfmbo.] 
Who  art  thou,  stranger  '.' 

Oro.  First  tell  me  who  is  the  captain  of  this  band  of 
robbers. 

Audacious!  This  insolence  has  lealed  thy  doom. 
Die  thou  shalt,  gray-headed  ruffian.  But  first  confess  what 
thou  knowest. 

Oro.  I  know  that  which  thou  hast  just  assured  me  of,  that 
1  shall  die. 

Piz.  Less  audacity  might  have  preserved  thy  life. 

Oro.  My  life  is  as  a  withered  tree,  nut  worth   presening. 

Piz.  Hear  me,  old  man.  Even  nown-e  march  against  the 
Peruvian  army.  We  know  there  is  a  sei-n-t  path  that  leads 
to  your  stronghold  among  the  rocks.  Guide  us  to  that,  and 
name  thy  reward.  If  wealth  be  thy  wUh 

Oro.  Ha,  ha,  ha! 

Piz.  Dost  thou  despise  my  offer? 

Oro.  Yes,  thee  and  thy  offer !  Wealth !  I  have  the 
wealth  of  two  gallant  sons.  I  have  stored  in  heaven  the 
riches  which  repay  good  actions  here  !  and  still  my«chiefest 
treasure  do  I  wear  about  me. 

Piz.  What  is  that?     Inform  me. 

Oro.  I  will,  for  thou  canst  in  \<r  tear  it  from  me.  An 
unsullied  conscience. 

Piz.  I  believe  there  is  no  other  Peruvian  who  dares  speak 
as  thou  dost. 

Oro.  Would  I  could  believe  there  is  no  other  Spaniard 
who  dares  act  as  thou  dost. 

Oom.  Obdurate  Pagan !  how  numerous  is  your  army  ? 

Oro.  Count  the  leaves  of  the  forest. 

Oom.  Which  is  the  weakest  part  of  your  camp  ? 

Oro.  It  is  fortified  on  all  sides  by  ju^ 

Gom.  Where  have  you  and  chil- 

dren? 

Oro.   In  the  hearts  of  their  husl.aiid*  and  fathers. 

Piz.  thou  Alonzo? 

Oro.  Know  him  !  Alonzo  !  Our  nation's  benefactor,  the 
guardian  angel  of  ]'• 

.  By  what  has  he  merited  that  title  ? 

Oro.  By  not  resembling  thee. 

Who    is    this    Holla,   joined    with    Alonzo   in   com- 
mand  ? 

I  will  answer  that,  for   I   ln\?   tn  aj*«k   the  hero'g 


Ex.  123.]  EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  295 

name.  Holla,  the  kinsman  of  the  king,  is  the  idol  of  our 
army.  In  war  a  tiger,  in  peace  a  lamb.  Cora  was  once  be- 
trothed to  him,  but  finding  she  preferred  Alonzo,  he  resigned 
his  claim  for  Cora's  happiness. 

Piz.  Romantic  savage !  I  shall  meet  this  Rolla  soon. 

Oro.  Thou  hadst  better  not !  the  terrors  of  his  noble  eye 
would  strike  thee  dead. 

Gom.  Silence,  or  tremble ! 

Oro.  Beardless  robber  !  I  never  yet  have  le'arned  to  trem- 
ble before  man — Why  before  thee,  thou  less  than  man  ! 

Gom.  Another  word,  audacious  heathen,  and  I  strike ! 

Oro.  Strike,  Christian  !  then  boast  among  thy  fellows,  "  I 
-too,  have  murdered  a  Peruvian." 


Second    Scene.      Sentinel,   Rolla,   and   Alonzo. — KOTZEBUE. 
[Enter  Rolla  disguised  as  a  monk.] 

Rolla.  Inform  me,  friend,  is  Alonzo,  the  Peruvian,  confined 
in  this  dungeon  ? 

Sent.  He  is. 

Rolla.  I  must  speak  with  him. 

Sent.  You  must  not. 

Rolla.  He  is  my  friend. 

Sent.  Not  if  he  were  your  brother. 

Rolla.  What  is  to  be  his  fate  ? 

Sent.  He  dies  at  sunrise. 

Rolla.  Ha !  then  I  am  come  in  time — 

Sent.  Just  to  witness  his  death. 

Rolla.  [Advancing  towards  the  door.]  Soldier — I  must 
speak  with  him. 

Sent.  [Pushing  him  back  with  his  gun]  Back !  back  !  it 
is  impossible. 

Rolla.  I  do  entreat  you  but  for  one  moment. 

Sent.  You  entreat  in  vain — my  orders  are  most  strict. 

Rolla.  Look  on  this  wedge  of  massy  gold  !  Look  on  these 
precious  gems.  In  thy  land  they  will  be  wealth  for  thee  and 
thine,  beyond  thy  hope  or  wish.  Take  them,  they  are  thine, 
let  me  but  pass  one  moment  with  Alonzo. 

Sent.  Away !  Wouldst  thou  corrupt  me  ?  Me,  an  old  Cas- 
tilian ! 1  know  my  duty  better. 

Rolla.  Soldier  !  hast  thou  a  wife  ? 

Sent.  I  have. 


EXtRCiSKS.  —  FA»T    if. 


Rol 

Sent.  Four,  1.  .  •  ly  boys. 

. 

Rolla.  Wliere  didst  lh»u  l<-;i\e  ti.' 

Sent.  In  my  native  \illage.  in  the  very  cut  where  I  WM 
born. 

Rolla.   Dost  thou  /oct  thy  \\ife  and  childi' 

Sent.  Do  I  love  them  !     God  knows  my  heart,  —  1  do. 

Holla.  Soldier!   Imagine  thou  \\ert  d  die  a  cruel 

death  in  a  simnge  land  —  What  would  be  thy  lust  rei|i, 

Sent.  That  some  of  my  con  my  dying 

blequn^  to  my  \\  if<-  and  children. 

•'.   Wliat  if  tliat  eomni'!  iliy  prison  door,  and 

should   there  be  told,  thy  fellow  soldier  die*  at   Minn 
thou  shall  not  for  a  moment  see  him,  nor  shall  thou   hear  his 
Messing  to   his    poor    children,  or  his  wretched  wife  — 
what  wouldst  thou   think  of  him  u  ho  thus    could  drive  thy 
comrade  from  the  door? 

Sent.  How? 

Rolla.  Alonzo  has  a  wife  and  child  ;  and  I  am  come  but  to 
receive  for  her,  and  for  her  poor  babe,  the  last  blessing  of  roj 
friend. 

Sent.  Go  in.     [Exit  Sentinel.] 

Rolla.  [Calls.]     Alonzo!  Alonzo! 

[Entir  .  I  /«><:•",  si>«ik'<n<j  as  he  comet  in.] 

Alon.  How  !  is  my  hour  elapsed  ?     Well,  I  am  ready. 
Rolla.  Alonzo,  -  know  me! 

Alon.  Rolla!  0  Rolla.'  how  didst  th«  i£  guorrf/ 

Rolla.  There  is  not  a  moment   to  l>e    lo-t   in  words.     This 
e  I  tore  from  the  dead  liody  of  ;i  friar,  as  I  passed  our 
field  of  battle.      It  has  gained  me  entrance  to   thy  dungeon  ; 
DOW  take  it  thou.  and  tly. 
\nd  Holla  - 


Will  remain  here  in  thy  | 
Aln,,.    And  <//V  for  me  '      .V"  '    Kather  et«mal  tortures  rack 
me. 

/.    I  -hall  not  die,  Alon/.o.      It  i-  //,,///'/"<>  pj/ 

.    and  thy  arm   m:iy  soon  deh\er  me  from    i 
Or,  should    it  lie    otherv.  i-e.    1    :iin  ti    the 

.    notliii)Lr  :    ait  a  hus 

band    »nd  a  fall. 

infant  depend  upon  thy  1,  >  sav« 

thyself,  but  ("'orn.  «nd  thv  rhilrl 


Ex.  123,  124.]      EXERCISES. — PART  IF.  297 

Alon.  Urge  me  not  thus,  my  friend — I  am  prepared  to  die 
in  peace. 

Rolla.  To  die  in  peace  !  devoting  her  you  have  sworn  to 
live  for,  to  madness,  misery,  and  death  ! 

Alon.  Merciful  heavens ! 

Holla.  If  thou  art  yet  irresolute,  Alonzo — now  mark  me 
well.  Thou  knowest  that  Rolla  never  pledged  his  word  and 
shrunk  from  its  fulfillment.  Know  then,  if  thou  art  proudly 
obstinate,  thou  shalt  have  the  desperate  triumph  of  seeing 
Rolla  perish  by  thy  side. 

Alon.  0  Rolla  !  you  distract  me  !  Wear  you  the  robe, 
and  though  dreadful  the  necessity,  we  will  strike  down  the 
guard,  and  force  our  passage. 

JRolla.  What,  the  soldier  on  duty  here  ? 

Alon.  Yes,  else  seeing  two,  the  alarm  will  be  instant 
death. 

Rolla.  For  my  nation's  safety,  I  would  not  harm  him. 
That  soldier,  mark  me,  is  a  man  !  All  are  not  men  that  wear 
the  human  form.  He  refused  my  prayers,  refused  my  gold, 
denying  to  admit — till  his  own  feelings  bribed  him.  I  will 
not  risk  a  hair  of  that  man's  head,  to  save  my  heart-strings 
from  consuming  fire.  But  haste !  A  moment's  further 
pause  and  all  is  lost. 

Alon.  Rolla,  I  fear  thy  friendship  drives  me  from  honor 
'and  from  right. 

Rolla.  Did  Rolla  ever  counsel  dishonor  to  his  friend? 
[Throwing  the  friar  s  garment  over  his  shoulders.]  There, 
conceal  thy  face — Now  God  be  with  thee. 


EXERCISE  124. 

God. —  Translated  from  a  Russian  Ode  by  DKRZHANIR. 

L  O  Thou  Eternal  One !  whose  presence  bright, 
All  space  doth  occupy, — all  motion  guide ; 
Unchanged  through  time's  all  devastating  flight, 
Thou  only  God  !     There  is  no  God  beside. 
Being  above  all  beings  !     Mighty  One  ! 
Whom  none  can  comprehend,  and  none  explore, 
Who  fill'st  existence  with  thyself  alone  ; 
Embracing  all — supporting — ruling  o'er — 
Being  whom  we  call  God — and  know  no  more ! 

IS* 


»8  BXHRCISE8. FART   II.  [Ex.    124. 

2  A  million  torches  lighted  by  thy  hand, 
Wander  unwearied  through  the  blue  abyss; 

own  thy  power,  accomplish  thy  command, 
All  gay  with  lite,  all  eloquent  with  bliss: 
What  shall  we  call  them?     Piles  of  crystal  light  ? 

glorious  company  of  golden  streams  ? 
I  .mips  of  celestial  ether,  burning  bright  ? 
Suns  lighting  systems  with  their  joyous  beams  ? 
l)ui  thou  to  these  art  as  the  noon  to  night. 

;}   Yes  !  as  a  drop  of  water  in  the  sea, 
All  this  magnificence  is  lost  in  thee : — 
What  are  ten  thousand  worlds  compared  to  Thee  ? 
And  what  am  J,  then  ?  Heaven's  unnumber'd  host, 
Though  multiplied  l>y  myriads,  and  array'd 
In  all  the  glory  of  sublimest  thought, 
Is  but  an  atom  in  the  balance  weigh'd 
Against  thy  greatness — Is  a  cipher  brought 
Against  infinity  !  what  am  /  then  ?  Nought ! 

4  Nought  ? — But  the  effluence  of  thy  light  divine, 
Pervading  worlds,  hath  reach'd  my  bosom  too; 

>t  es,  in  my  spirit  doth  thy  Spirit  shine, 

As  shines  tin-  sunbeam  in  a  drop  of  dew. 

Nought  ? — But  I  live,  and  on  hope's  pinions  8y 

Eager  towards  thy  presence ;  for  in  thee 

I  live,  and  breathe,  and  dwell  ;  aspiring  high, 

Even  to  the  throne  of  thy  Divinity. 

I  am,  O  God,  and  surely  thou  must  be ! 

5  Thou  art !  directing,  guiding,  all.     Thou  art ! 
Direct  my  understanding  then  to  thee  ; 
Control  my  spiiit,  ;;uide  my  wandering  heart; 
Though  but  an  atom  'midst  immensity. 

Still  1  am  something  I'ashion'd  by  thy  hand  ' 
I  hold  a  middle  rank.  'I\M\I  heaven  and  earth, 
On  the  last  veri,'e  of  bein^  >tand, 
Tic--,    f  the  realm  where  angels  have  their  birth, 
Just  on  the  boundary  of  the  spirit  land  ' 


Ex.   125.]  EXERCISES. PART  II.  299 


EXERCISE    125. 
The  Dead  Sea. — CROLY. 

1  The  wind  blows  chill  across  those  gloomy  waves ; — 

Oh !  how  unlike  the  green  and  dancing  main  ! 
The  surge  is  foul,  as  if  it  roll'd  o'er  graves  ; 
Stranger,  here  lie  the  cities  of  the  plain. 

2  Yes,  on  that  plain,  by  wild  waves  cover'd  now, 

Rose  palace  once,  and  sparkling  pinnacle  ; 
On  pomp  and  spectacle  beam'd  morning's  glow, 
On  pomp  and  festival  the  twilight  fell. 

3  Lovely  and  splendid  all, — but  Sodom's  soul 

Was  stain'd  with  blood,  and  pride,  and  perjury ; 
Long  warn'd,  long  spared,  till  her  whole  heart  was  foul, 
And  fiery  vengeance  on  its  clouds  came  nigh. 

4  And  still  she  mock'd,  and  danced,  and,  taunting  spoke 

Her  sportive  blasphemies  against  the  Throne  ; — 
It  came  ! — the  thunder  on  her  slumber  broke  : — 

God  spake  the  word  of  wrath  ! — Her  dream  was  done. 

5  Yet,  in  her  final  night,  amid  her  stood 

Immortal  messengers  ;  and  pausing  Heaven, 
Pleaded  with  man,  but  she  was  quite  imbued, 
Her  last  hour  waned,  she  scorn'd  to  be  forgiven ! 

6  'Twas  done ! — Down  pour'd  at  once  the  sulph'rous  show'r, 

Down  stoop'd,  in  flame,  the  heaven's  red  canopy. 
Oh  !  for  the  arm  of  God,  in  that  fierce  hour ! — 
'Twas  vain,  nor  help  of  God  or  man  was  nigh. 

7  They  rush,  they  bound,  they  howl,  the  men  of  sin ; — 

Still  stoop'd  the  cloud,  still  burst  the  thicker  blaze ; 
The  earthquake  heaved ! — Then  sank  the  hideous  din  : 
Yon  wave  of  darkness  o'er  their  ashes  strays. 

8  PARIS  !  thy  soul  is  deeper  dyed  with  blood, 

And  long,  and  blasphemous,  has  been  thy  day ; 
And  PARIS  !  it  were  well  for  thee  that  flood, 
Or  fire,  could  cleanse  thy  damning  stains  away- 


300  KXXBCUK0. FA*T  II.  [Ex. 

r.xr.urisr:  126. 

• 

New  Missionary  Hymn. 

S.F  SMITH.    Tb«ologk»l  Stodaat,  Aatom. 

1  Yes,  my  native  land,  I  love  thee. 

All  thy  scenes  I  love  them  well ; 

rids,  connections,  happy  country  : 
Can  I  bid  you  all  farewell  ? 

Can  I  leave  you — 
Far  in  heathen  lands  to  dwell  ? 

2  Home !  thy  joys  are  passing  lovely  ; 

Joys  no  stranger-heart  can  tell  f 
Happy  home  !  indeed  I  love  thee. 

Can  I — can  I  say — Farewell? 

Can  I  leave  thee — 
Far  in  heathen  lands  to  dwell  ? 

3  Scenes  of  sacred  peace  and  pleasure. 

Holy  days  and  Sabbath  bell, 
Richest,  brightest,  sweetest  treasure ! 

Can  I  say  a  last  farewell  ? 

Can  I  leave  you — 
Far  in  heathen  lands  to  dwell '.' 

4  Yes !  I  hasten  from  you  gladly, 

From  the  scenes  I  loved  so  well ! 
Far  away,  ye  billows,  bear  me ; 

Lovely  native  land,  farewell ! 

Pleased  I  leave  thee — 
Far  in  heathen  lands  to  dwell. 

A  In  the  deserts  let  me  labor. 

On  the  mountains  let  me  tell, 
How  he  died — the  blessed  Savior — 
To  redeem  a  world  from  hell ' 

Let  me  hasten, 
Far  in  heathen  lands  to  dwell. 

0  Bear  me  on,  thou  restless  ocean, 

Let  the  winds  the  canvas  swell — 
Heaves  my  heart  with  warm  emotion, 
\Vhilc  1  go  far  hence  to  dwell. 

Glad  f  bid  thee, 
Vative  land  ' — FANKWBU. — 


Ex.    127.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  801 

EXERCISE  127. 
Tlie  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat. — CHATEAUBRIAND. 

The  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat  has  in  all  ages  served  as 
the  burying-place  to  Jerusalem  :  you  meet  there,  side  by 
side,  monuments  of  the  most  distant  times  and  of  the 
present  century.  The  Jews  still  come  there  to  die,  from 
5  all  the  corners  of  the  earth.  A  stranger  sells  to  them, 
for  almost  its  weight  in  gold,  the  land  which  contains  the 
bones  of  their  fathers.  Solomon  planted  that  valley  :  the 
shadow  of  the  Temple  by  which  it  was  overhung — the 
torrent,  called  after  grief,  which  traversed  it — the  Psalms 

10  which  David  there  composed — the  Lamentations  of  Jere- 
miah, which  its  rocks  re-echoed,  render  it  the  fitting 
abode  of  the  tomb.  Jesus  Christ  commenced  his  Passion 
in  the  same  place :  that  innocent  David  there  shed,  for 
the  expiation  of  our  sins,  those  tears  which  the  guilty 

15  David  let  fall  for  his  own  transgressions.  Few  names 
awaken  in  our  minds  recollections  so  solemn  as  the  Valley 
of  Jehoshaphat.  It  is  so  full  of  mysteries,  that,  according 
to  the  Prophet  Joel,  all  mankind  will  be  assembled  there 
before  the  Eternal  Judge. 

20  The  aspect  of  this  celebrated  valley  is  desolate ;  the 
western  side  is  bounded  by  a  ridge  of  lofty  rocks  which 
support  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  above  which  the  towers 
of  the  city  appear.  The  eastern  is  formed  by  the  Mount 
of  Olives,  and  another  eminence  called  the  Mount  of  Scan- 

25  dal,  from  the  idolatry  of  Solomon.  These  two  moun- 
tains, which  adjoin  each  other,  are  almost  bare,  and  of  a 
red  and  sombre  hue ;  on  their  desert  side  you  see  here 
and  there  some  black  and  withered  vineyards,  some  wild 
olives,  some  ploughed  land,  covered  with  hyssop,  and  a 

30  few  ruined  chapels.  At  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  you 
perceive  a  torrent,  traversed  by  a  single  arch,  which 
appears  of  great  antiquity.  The  stones  of  the  Jewish 
cemetery  appear  like  a  mass  of  ruins  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  of  Scandal,  under  the  village  of  Siloam.  You 

35  can  hardly  distinguish  the  buildings  of  the  village  from 
the  ruins  with  which  they  are  surrounded.  Three  ancient 
monuments  are  particularly  conspicuous  ;  those  of  Zacha- 
riah,  Josaphat,  and  Absalom.  The  sadness  of  Jerusalem, 
from  which  no  smoke  ascends,  and  in  which  no  sound  is 


302  EXERCISES. PART    II.         [Ex.    127,   12S. 

40  to  be  heard ;  the  solitude  of  the  surrounding  mountains, 
where  not  a  living  creature  is  to  be  seen  ;  the  disorder 
of  those  tombs,  ruim-d,  ransacked,  and  half  exposed  to 
view,  would  almost  induce  one  to  believe  that  the  last 
trump  had  been  heard,  and  that  the  dead  were  about  to 

45  rise  in  the  Valley  of  Jchoshaphut. 


EXERCISE  128. 
Roderick  in  Battle. — SOUTHEY. 
Count  Julian's  soldiers  and  the  Austrian  host 
Set  up  a  shout,  a  joyful  shout,'  which  rung 
Wide  through  the  welkin.     Their  exulting  cry 
With  louder  acclamation  was  renew'd, 
5  When  from  the  expiring  miscreant's  neck  they  saw 
That  Roderick  took  the  shield,  and  round  his  own 
Hung  it,  and  vaulted  in  the  seat.     My  horse ! 
My  noble  horse  !  he  cried,  with  flattering  hand 
Patting  his  high-arch'd  neck  !  the  renegade — 

10  I  thank  him  for't — hath  kept  thee  daintily ! 
Orelio,  thou  art  in  thy  beauty  still, 
Thy  pride  and  strength  !  Orelio,  my  good  horse, 
Once  more  thou  bearest  to  the  field  thy  lord, 
He  who  so  oft  hath  fed  and  cherish'd  thee, 

15  He  for  whose  sake,  wherever  thou  wert  seen, 
Thou  wert  by  all  men  honor'd.     Once  again 
Thou  hast  thy  proper  master !     Do  thy  part 
As  thou  wert  wont ;  and  bear  him  gloriously, 
My  beautiful  Orelio, — to  the  last — 

20  The  happiest  cf  his  lir'ds  ! — Then  he  drew  forth 
The  cimiter,  and,  waving  it  aloft, 
Rode  toward  tin*  troops  ;  its  unaccustomed  shape 
Disliked  him.     Rem-gadi-  in  all  things!  cried 
The  Goth,  and  <-ast  h  from  him  ;  to  the  chiefs 

25  Then  said,  If  I  havi-  done  yc  sen-ice  here, 
Help  me,  I  pray  you.  to  a  Spanish  sword! 
The  trustiest  blade  that  t-Vr  in  Hilhilis 
Was  dipp'd,  would  not  to-day  be  nu>l>fstowed 
On  this  right  hand ! — (Jo,  some  one,  (iunderick  cried, 

30  And  bring  Count  Julian's  sword.     Whoe'er  thou  art, 
Tin-  worth  which  thou  hast  shown  him 

Entitles  thee  to  wear  it.     But  thou  goest 
For  buttle  nnequipp'd — haste  there,  and  strip 


Ex.    128.]  EXERCISES. PART    II.  303 

Yon  villain  of  his  armor  !     Late  he  spake, 
35  So  fast  the  Moors  came  on.     It  matters  not, 

Replied  the  Goth  ;  there's  many  a  mountaineer, 

Who  in  no  beter  armor  cased  this  day 

Than  his  wonted  leathern  gipion,  will  be  found 

In  the  hottest  battle,  yet  bring  off  untouch'd 
40  The  unguarded  life  he  ventures. — Taking  then 

Count  Julian's  sword,  he  fitted  round  his  wrist 

The  chain,  and  eyeing  the  elaborate  steel 

With  stern  regard  of  joy — The  African 

Under  unhappy  stars  was  born,  he  cried, 
45  Who  tastes  thy  edge  ! — Make  ready  for  the  charge ! 

They  come — they  come  ! — On,  brethren,  to  the  field ! — 

The  word  is,  Vengeance  ! 

Vengeance  was  the  word ; 

From  man  to  man,  and  rank  to  rank  it  pass'd, 
50  By  every  heart  enforced,  by  every  voice 

Sent  forth  in  loud  defiance  of  the  foe. 

The  enemy  in  shriller  sounds  return'd 

Their  Akbar  and  the  prophet's  trusted  name. 

The  horsemen  lower'd  their  spears,  the  infantry, 
55  Deliberately,  with  slow  and  steady  step, 

Advanced ;  the  bow-strings  twang'd,  and  arrows  hiss'd, 

And  javelins  hurtled  by.     Anon  the  hosts 

Met  in  the  shock  of  battle,  horse  and  man 

Conflicting ;  shield  struck  shield,  and  sword  and  mace, 
60  And  curtle-axe  on  helm  and  buckler  rung  ; 

Armor  was  riven,  and  wounds  were  interchanged, 

And  many  a  spirit  from  its  mortal  hold 

Hurried  to  bliss  or  bale.     Well  did  the  chiefs 

Of  Julian's  army  in  that  hour  support 
65  Their  old  esteem ;  and  Avell  Count  Pedro  there 

Enhanced  his  former  praise ;  and  by  his  side, 

Rejoicing  like  a  bridegroom  in  the  strife, 

Alphonso  through  the  host  of  infidels 

Bore  on  his  bloody  lance  dismay  and  death. 
70  But  there  was  worst  confusion  and  uproar, 

There  widest  slaughter  and  dismay,  where,  proud 

Of  his  recover'd  lord,  Orelio  plunged 

Through  thickest  ranks,  trampling  beneath  his  feet 

The  living  and  the  dead.     Where'er  he  turns, 
75  The  Moors  divide  and  fly.     What  man  is  this, 

Appall'd  they  say,  who  to  the  front  of  war 


304  EXERCISES. PART    II.          [Ex.    1*28,  120. 

Bareheaded  offers  thus  his  naked  life  ? 
Replete  with  power  he  is,  and  terrible, 
Like  some  destroying  angel !  Sure  his  lips 

80  Have  drunk  of  Kaf's  dark  fountain,  and  he  comet 
Strong  ia  his  immortality  !     Fly  !  Hv  ! 
They  said  ;  thi.s  i.s  no  human  toe  ! — Nor  less 
Of  wonder  fill'd  the  Spaniards  when  they  saw 
How  flight  and  terror  went  before  his  way, 

85  And  slaughter  in  his  path.     Behold,  cries  one, 
With  what  command  and  knightly  ease  he  sits 
The  intrepid  steed,  and  deals  from  side  to  side 
His  dreudful  bl<>\\>!      \»t  Roderick  in  his  power 
Bestrode  with  such  command  and  majesty 

90  That  noble  war-horse.     His  loose  robe  this  day 
Is  death's  bluck  banner,  shaking  from  its  folds 
Dismay  and  ruin.     Of  no  mortal  mold 
Is  he  who  in  that  garb  of  peace  affronts 
Whole  hosts,  and  sees  them  scatter  where  he  turns ! 

95  Auspicious  Heaven  beholds  us,  and  some  saint 
Revisits  earth ! 


EXERCISE  129. 
Niagara. — SIOOURSKV. 

Flow  on,  forever,  in  thy  glorious  robe 
Of  terror  and  of  beauty.     Yea,  flow  on 
Unfathom'd  and  resistless.     God  hath  set 
\l\-~  rainbow  on  thy  forehead  :   and  the  cloud 
6  Mantled  around  thy  feet.     And  he  doth  give 
Thy  voice  of  thunder,  power  to  speak  of  Him 
Eternally — bidding  the  lip  of  man 
Keep  silence — and  upon  ihy  rooky  altar  pour 
Incense  of  awe-struck  prat-..'.      Ah!  who  can  dare 

10  To  lift  lh<-  insert  trump  of  earthly  hope, 
Or  love,  or  sorrow — 'mid  the  peal  sublime 
Of  thy  tremendous  hymn  .'     Kven  ocean  shrinks 
Hack  from  thy  brotherhood  :   and  all  his  waves 
Retire  aba-h'd.      For  he  doth  sometimes  seem 

15  To  sleep  like  a  spent  laborer — and  recall 
ili>  v..  u led  billows  from  their  vexing  play, 
And  lull  them  to  a  cradle  calm  :   but  thou. 
With  .-verlaslinif.  underaviiiir  '"'''• 


Ex.   129,    130.J          KXLRCISKS. PART  II.  305 

Dost  rest  not,  night  or  day. — The  morning  stars, 

20  When  first  they  sang  o'er  young  creation's  birth, 
Heard  thy  deep  anthem  ;  and  those  wrecking  fires, 
That  wait  the  archangel's  signal  to  dissolve 
This  solid  earth,  shall  find  JKHOVAH'S  name 
Graven,  as  with  a  thousand  diamond  spears, 

25   Of  thine  unending  volume.     Every  leaf, 
That  lifts  itself  within  thy  wide  domain, 
Doth  gather  greenness  from  thy  living  spray, 
Yet  trembles  at  the  baptism.     Lo  ! — you  birds 
Do  boldly  venture  near,  and  bathe  their  wing 

30  Amid  thy  mist  and  foam.     'Tis  meet  for  them 
To  toucli  thy  garment's  hem,  and  lightly  stir 
The  snowy  leaflets  of  thy  vapor-wreath, 
For  they  may  sport  unharm'd  amid  the  cloud, 
Or  listen  at  the  echoing  gate  of  heaven, 

35  Without  reproof.     But  as  for  us,  it  seems 

Scarce  lawful,  with  our  broken  tones,  to  speak 
Familiarly  of  thee.     Methinks,  to  tint 
Thy  glorious  features  with  our  pencil's  point, 
Or  woo  thee  to  the  tablet  of  a  song, 

40  Were  profanation.     Thou  dost  make  the  soul 
A  wondering  witness  of  thy  majesty, 
But  as  it  presses  with  delirious  joy 
To  pierce  thy  vestibule,  dost  chain  its  step, 
And  tame  its  rapture,  with  the  humbling  view 

45  Of  its  own  nothingness,  bidding  it  stand 
In  the  dread  presence  of  the  Invisible, 
As  if  to  answer  to  its  GOD  through  thee. 


EXERCISE    130. 
On  a  very  old  Wedding  Ring. — GEORGE  W.  DOANE,  L.  L.  D. 

1  I  like  that  ring — that  ancient,  ring, 

Of  massive  form,  and  virgin  gold, 
As  firm,  as  free  from  base  alloy, 

As  were  the  sterling  hearts  of  old. 
I  like  it — for  it  wafts  me  back, 

Far,  far  along  the  stream  of  time, 
To  other  men,  and  other  days, 

The  men  and  days  of  deeds  sublime. 


MOO  RCMSE8. PART    II.  [Ex.    l.'JO 

2  But  most  I  like  it,  a>  it  tolls. 

The  tale  of  well-re^uit 
How  youthful  forulne.— 

And  youthful  ;  ..n'd  t-i  i«»ve — 

How  warmly  he  hi>  suit  proferr'd. 

Though  she,  unpityinLf,  lung  denied, 
Till,  soften'd  and  subdued,  at  last, 

He  won  his  "lair  and  blooming  bride." — 

3  How,  till  the  appointed  hour  arrived, 

They  blamed  the  lazy-footed  hours — 
How,  then,  the  white-robed  maiden  train 

Strew'd  their  glad  way  with  freshest  flowers — 
And  how,  before  tin-  holy  man, 

They  stood,  in  all  their  youthful  pride, 
And  spoke  those  words,  and  vow'd  those  vowa, 

Which  bind  the  husband  to  his  bride: 

4  All  this  it  tells;  the  plighted  troth— 

The  gift  of  every  earthly  thing — 
The  hand  in  hand — the  heart  in  heart — 

For  this  I  like  that  ancient  ring. 
I  like  its  old  and  quaint  device; 

••Two  bli-iiiied  hearN" — though  time  may  wear  them, 
No  mortal  change,  no  mortal  chance, 

"  Till  death,"  shall  e'er  in  sunder  tear  them. 

5  Year  after  year,  'neath  sun  and  storm, 

Their  hopes  in  heaven,  their  trust  in  GOD, 

In  cl.  holy  love, 

e  two  the  world's  rough  pathway  trod. 
Age  might  impair  their  youthful  fires, 

Their  Mrength  might  fail,  'mid  life's  bleak  weather, 
Still,  hand  in  hand,  they  travel'd  on — 

Kind  souls,  they  slutnher  now  together. 

6  I  like  its  simple  poesy  too : 

"Mine  own  dear  love  this  heart  is  thine!" 
Thine,  when  the  dark  storm  howls  al- 

As  when  the  cloudless  sunbeams  s. 
"  This  heart  is  thine,  mine  own  dear  love  !" 

Thine,  and  thin*  onlv,  nnd  forever; 


Ex.  181,  132.]      EXERCISES. — PART  ii.  307 

Thine,  till  the  springs  of  life  shall  fail, 
Thine,  till  the  cords  of  life  shall  sever." 

7  Remnant  of  days  departed  long, 

Emblem  of  plighted  troth  unbroken, 
Pledge  of  devoted  faithfulness, 

Of  heartfelt  holy  love  the  token ; 
What  varied  feelings  round  it  cling ! — 
For  these  I  like  that  ancient  ring. 


EXERCISE   131. 
The  Nativity. — TAPPAN. 

1  Judea's  plains  in  silence  sleep 

Beneath  the  cloudless  midnight  sky, 
And  o'er  their  flocks  the  shepherds  keep 

Kind  watch,  to  David's  city  nigh : 
That  royal  city ! — nobler  Guest 

Is  she  awhile  to  entertain, 
Than  proudest  monarch,  whose  behest 

It  is  o'er  earthly  realms  to  reign. 
By  Him  salvation  is  to  mortals  given, 
On  Earth  is  shed  the  peerless  noon  of  Heaven. 

2  For  see !  along  the  deep  blue  arch 

A  glory  breaks ; — and  now  a  throng 
From  where  the  sparkling  planets  march, 

Comes  trooping  down  with  shout  and  song ; 
And  o'er  those  pastures,  bathed  in  light, 

The  sacred  legions  stay  their  wing, 
While  on  the  wakeful  ear  of  night 

Steals  the  rich  hymn  that  Seraphs  sing. 
And  sweetly  thus  the  mellow  accents  ran, 
"  Glory  to  God,  Good  Will  and  Peace  to  Man !" 


EXERCISE  132. 
Christmas  Hymn. — HEBER. 
1  Brightest  and  best  of  the  sons  of  the  morning  ! 

Dawn  on  our  darkness  and  lend  us  Thine  aid ! 
Star  of  the  East,  the  horizon  adorning, 
Guide  whore  mir  infant  Redeemer  is  laid  ' 


EXEKCI9JCS.  -  FART    II.         [El.    I'M.  1S3. 

2  Cold  on  I  i  -tuning, 

Low  lies  his  head  with  the  beasts  of  the  stall  ; 
Angels  adore  Hiin  in  Clumber  reclining, 
Maker  and  Monarch  and  Suvior  of  all  ! 


3  Say,  shall  we  yield  Him. 

Odors  of  Edoni,  ami  offering  di\ 
Gems  of  the  mountain  and  pearls  of  the  ocean, 
Myrrh  from  tlu-  fon-j-t  ur  gold  from  tlie  in; 

4.  Vainly  we  offer  each  ample  oblation; 

Vainly  with  gifts  would  His  favor  secure  : 
Richer  by  far  is  the  In-,..  ;on  ; 

Deai  I  are  the  prayer*  of  the  poor. 

5  Brightest  and  best  of  the  sons  of  the  morning  ! 

Dawn  on  our  darkness  and  lend  us  Thine 
Star  of  the  Ea-st,  the  horizon  adorning, 
(Juide  where  our  infant  Redeemer  is  laid. 


133. 
Thou  art  gone  to  the  Grave. — HEBER. 

1  Thou  art  gone  to  the  grave !  but  we  will  not  deplore  thee. 

Though  sorrows  and  darkne>s  nirompass  the  tomb  ; 
Thy  Savior  has  pa-s'd  through  its  portals  In-fore  tin-.-. 

1  the  lamp  of  His  !••  aid«-  ihrou^h  the  gloom  ! 

2  Thou  :u  Ix-hold  thee, 

Nor  tread  tin-  pm-h  path  of  the  World  by  thy  side; 
But  the  wid«-  am.  spread  to  infold  thee, 

And  sinners  may  il 

3  Thou  ar-  mansion  forsaking, 

ari'-r  thy  weak  ^|>irit  in  fear  lin^er'd  ! 

iild  rays  of  I'.r  .-n'd  on  thy  \v,i 

And   the  sound  which    thoii    ln-ard-t  wa^   the-. 
song ! 

\\«-  will  not  deplor> 

Who.se  '  rdian  and  \r\mlc  ; 

He  $: 

And  death  has  no  t-tin:;.  f'-r  ihe  Sa\ior  has  died  ! 


APPENDIX, 


THE  reader,  that  he  may  understand  the  design  of  this  Appendix,  is 
requested  to  turn  back  to  page  52,  and  review  with  care  all  the  remarks 
that  are  made  under  the  head  of  Quantity.  Few  persons  are  aware  to 
what  extent  the  power  of  any  tolerable  voice  may  be  increased,  by  the 
habit  of  a  slow,  clear,  distinct  enunciation  To  acquire  this  habit,  the 
pupil  must  accustom  himself,  by  efforts  often  repeated,  to  fill,  and  swell, 
and  prolong  the  open  vowels.  This  may  be  done  by  uttering  the  simple 
elementary  sounds,  a,  c,  &c.,  with  great  stress.  But  as  vocal  sounds  are 
intended  to  convey  thoughts,  and  these  single  elements  signify  nothing  of 
themselves,  the  pupil  is  reluctant  to  exert  his  voice  upon  them,  with  suf- 
ficient strength  to  answer  the  purpose.  The  different  sounds  of  a  as  heard 
in  fate,  far,  war,  he  can  utter,  but  to  do  it  with  his  voice  at  full  stretch  is 
unnatural ;  it  seems  to  him  more  like  barking,  or  bleating,  than  like  elo- 
cution. Whereas,  let  the  sound  to  be  made,  be  part  of  a  word,  and  that 
word,  part  of  a  sentence, — meaning  something  that  ought  to  be  uttered,  in 
a  loud,fuU  note,  and  the  difficulty  is  surmounted  with  comparative  ease. 

To  accomplish  this,  is  the  purpose  of  the  following  examples.  In  pro- 
nouncing them,  the  reader  will  remember  that  they  are  generally  taken 
from  the  language  of  military  command ;  and  from  other  cases  in  which 
the  persons  addressed  are  supposed  to  be  at  some  distance  from  the 
speaker.  The  words  printed  in  Italic,  contain  the  vowel  sounds  on  which 
the  stress  and  quantity  are  to  be  laid.  Imagine  yourself  to  be  speaking 
these  words  to  those  who  are  five  or  ten  rods  from  you,  and  you  will 
unavoidably  acquire  the  habit  of  dwelling  on  the  vowel  with  a  slow, 
strong  note. 

The  sounds  most  favorable  to  the  object  of  this  exercise  are  those  of 


a in  fate 

a in  hark 

a in  fall 

a  or  ai in  fair  or  air 


e in  me. 


e in  men 

i in  rise 

o in  go 

o in  move 

o in  for 


u in  tube 

u  in  turn 

ffi in  noise 

mi in  loud. 


The  selections  are  arranged  promiscuously,  several  of  the  vowel  sound* 
sometimes  occurring  in  the  same  example. 


310  MTKNDIX. 


1 :  X  A  M  P  L  E  S . 

1.  Then  take  defiance,  death,  and  mortal  tear. 

2.  Haste  f — to  his  ear  the  glad  report  convey. 

3.  Stretch  to  the  race! — A  wit;/ .' — Away. 

4.  Let  what  I  will,  be  fate. 

5.  0  Sdlyman  f — regardless  chief! — Airake. 

6.  Come,  mighty  Monarch,  haste! — the  fortress  gain. 

7.  Wherefore,  O  Warrior*!  make  your  promise  vain? 

8.  Conquest  awaits  you.     Stizt  the  glorious  prize. 

9.  "Haste  !  let  us  storm  the  gates,''  he  said,  and  flew. 

10.  The  cry  was—"  Tidings  f  from  the  hfat,— 
"  Of  weight — A  messenger  comes  post." 

11.  Arm,  valiant  chief! — F<>r/i//A<  prepare. 

12.  "  To  arms! — To  arms!" — a  thousand  voices  cried. 

13.  "  Fortear!  The  field  is  mj;w,"— he  cries. 

14.  "  Who  dares  to  fly  from  yonder  swords," — he  cries. 
"  Who  dares  to  tremble,  by  this  weapon  dies" 

15.  Stand— Bayard  ! — Stand!— the  steed  obey'd. 

16.  To  arms!  The  foemen  storm  the  wall. 

17.  Wbr!   War! — aloud  with  general  voice  they  cry. 

18.  Haste  f  Pass  the  sias.     Thy  flying  sails  employ  ; 
Fly  hence  !  Begdne  ! 

19.  Tis  death  I  siek  ;  but  ere  I  yield  to  f . 

I  trust  to  crush  thee  with  my  falling  weight. 

20.  Him  by  his  arms  Rambaldo  knows,  and  cries, 

"  What  seek'st  thou  here,  or  whither  wouldst  thou  bead? 

21.  0  cruel  Tancred  ! — ctase!— at  last  relfnt. 

22.  "  Speed,  Malise  !  spied  /" — he  loudly  cried, 
"  The  mustering  place  is  Lanrick  mead ; 
Spied  forth  the  signal,  Norman  !  Spied  f" 

23.  Peace!  Peace! — To  other  than  to  me. 
Thy  words  are  ivil  augury. 


APPENDIX.  311 


24.  Warriors,  attend !  survey  this  bloody  sword. 

25.  Wde  to  the  traitor  ! — woe  ! 

26.  On  Bertram,  then,  he  laid  his  hand, 
"Should  every  fiend  to  whom  thou'rt  sold 
Rise  in  thine  aid,  I  keep  my  hold. 

Arouse  there  !     ffd  ! — take  sp£ar  and  sword  ; 
Attack  the  murderer  of  your  lord." 

27.  "  Ye  Warriors  brave  ! — attend  my  words,"  he  said. 

28.  With  monarch's  voice,  "  Go! — and  rep&nt"  he  cried. 

29.  Rise  !  Rise  ! — ye  Citizens,  your  gates  defend ; 
Behold  the  foe  at  hand. 

30.  "  Return,  ye  Warriors  !" — thus  aloud  he  cried. 

31.  Fly  Argillan  !  behold  the  mdrning  nigh. 

32.  "  What  bring'st  thou  here  ?" — she  cried. 

"  Lo,  war  and  d&ath  I  bring,"  the  chief  replied. 

33.  Oh  !  burst  the  bridge,  and  me"  alone  expose. 

34.  Still,  still  he  breathes  ;  Our  Tancred  still  survives. 

35.  H&nce  !  home,  you  idle  creatures  ! — get  you  hdme. 

You    blocks, — you  stones, — you    worse    than    senseless 
things. 

36.  Woe  to  the  wretch  who  fails  to  rear, 
At  this  dread  sign,  his  ready  spear. 

37.  "  Up  !  comrades,  up  ! — in  Rokeby's  halls, 
Ne'er  be  it  said  our  courage  falls." 

38.  Back  !  on  your  lives,  ye  menial  pack. 

39.  Boldly  she  spake,  "  Sdldiers,  attend  ! 
My  father  was  the  soldier's  friend." 

40.  "  Revenge! — Revenge!" — the  Saxons  cried. 

41.  Malcolm  ! — comefdrth  ! — and  forth  he  came. 

42.  "  On!   On!" — was  still  his  stern  exclaim, 
"  Confrbnt  the  battery's  jaws  of  flame  ! 
Rush  on  the  level  gun ! 

My  steel-clad  Cuirassiers  ! — advance  ! 
Each  Hulan,  foricard  /—with  his  lance ! 


AJM'KVWX. 


My  Guard!  —  my  chosen,—  -charge  for  France, 
France,  and  Xapdleon" 

43.  "  6  '—  stand  /irwi."  exclaim'd  the  British  chief, 
1  England  shall  tell  the  fight." 

44.  The  combat  deepens,  "  On,  ye  brave! 
Who  ru>h  to  ylory  or  t: 

45.  Biirst^  the  storm  on  Phocis'  walls  ! 
Rite  /—or  Greece  forever  falls. 

46.  Yet,  though  destructi  -\\>--r-  lovi-lv  p 
Rite!  Fellow  men  !  —  our  country  yet  remains. 

47.  Where  was  thine  arm,  O  vengeance  ?  and  thy  rod, 
That  smote  the  foes  of  Zion  and  of  God  ? 

48.  Angels  !  and  ministers  of  Grdcf  f  defend  us  ; 
Save  me,  —  and  hover  o'er  me  with  your  u 
\>-  heavenly  (iitardt! 

49.  "  And  do  you  now  put  on  your  best  attire  ? 
And  do  you  now  cull  out  a  holid 

And  do  you  now  Bl  r.y  in  his  way 

That  chinos  in  triumph  ,p<  -y  's  1,1" 

Begdnt  ! 

50.  Av'dunt  f  —  Fly  thither  whence  thou  fledd'st  ;  if  from  this 

hour, 

Within  these  hallow'd  limits  thou  appear, 
Back  to  the  infernal  pit  I  drag  • 

51.  And  I  heard  an  an^f-1,  flying  through  tin-  midst  <>f  1 

saying  with  a  loud  vo 
'    \\'<x,  tedf,  vde,  to  tho  inhabitarr  irth." 

it  God  sni'l   untn    him,  "  Thou  f»6l  .'—  this   night  thy 
«ou/  shall  bo  nvjuin-d  <>f  i! 

53.  And  he  cried  and  said,  "  Father  Abraham  !    Have  mtrey 
upon  me." 


SANDERS'    SERIES 


OF 

SCHOOL    BOOKS, 

CONSISTING    OF 

SANDERS'  PRIMARY  SCHOOL  PRIMER; 
SANDERS'  PICTORIAL  PRIMER; 
SANDERS'  SPELLING  BOOK,  168  pages. 
SANDERS'  SCHOOL  READER,  1st  Book;   120  pages. 
SANDERS'  SCHOOL  READER,  2d  Book;   180    " 
SANDERS'  SCHOOL  READER,  3d  Book;  250    " 
SANDERS'  SCHOOL  READER,  4th  Book;  364    " 
SANDERS'   SCHOOL   READER,  5th  Book ;  (in  press.) 

These  books  constitute  the  most  valuable  series  ever  published — a  fact 
fully  evinced  by  the  generous  patronage  which  they  have  received  from 
the  Friends  of  Education  throughout  the  country.  More  than  two  mil- 
lions have  been  sold,  and  the  demand  is  increasing.  Their  leading  ad- 
vantages are  as  follows: 

1st.  The  child  is  taught  to  read  by  the  use  of  INTELLIGIBLE  WORDS  ONLY 
— beginning  with  the  least,  as  those  of  two  letters,  and  eradually  advan- 
cing to  those  of  greater  length. 

2d.  All  the  words  in  the  first  book,  or  Primer,  are  learned  by  the 
scholar  in  the  spelling  lessons,  before  they  meet  with  them  in 'the  reading 
lessons.  Also,  the  difficult  words  of  each  reading  lesson,  in  all  the  Read- 
ers, are  previously  formed  into  spelling  lessons. 

3d.  In  the  3d  and  4th  Readers,  the  difficult  words  are  DEFINED  in  a 
general  and  literal  sense. 

4th.  The  Primary  books  contain  more  lessons  of  easy  reading  than  other 
works — there  being  about  NINETY  PACKS  made  up  of  MONOSYLABLES. 

5th.  The  PROGRESSION  from  one  book  to  another,  is  more  regular,  grad- 
ual, and  philosophical  than  usually  found. 

6th.  The  lessons  are  adapted  to  INTEREST  as  well  as  INSTRUCT. 

7th.  The  practical  and  judicious  use  of  PICTURES  is  calculated  to  ASSIST, 
and  not  retard,  the  efforts  of  the  teacher. 

8th.  The  PRACTICAL  INSTRUCTIONS  in  the  Rhetorical  principles  of  read- 
ing and  speaking,  contained  in  the  4th  Reader,  constitute  a  distinguishing 
characteristic  of  the  work. 

9th  At  the  end  of  each  lesson  for  reading,  questions  are  asked,  with 
reference  to  the  proper  inflections,  emphasis,  &c.,  which  should  be  adopted 
in  reading  the  lesson  with  propriety. 

10th.  In  connection  with  the  questions,  are  references  to  the  instruc- 
tions in  other  parts  of  the  work. 

llth.     The  PRINT  is  large  and  distinct,  gradually  diminishing  from  the 


SANDERS'  SERIES  OF  SCHOOL  BOOKS. 

large  print  of  the  Primer  to  that  of  the  ordinary  size,  contained  in  the  4th 
Kc.idir 

T.'th  A  greater  VARIETY,  both  in  style  and  subject,  is  found  in  this 
riea  than  is  usual  in  lunik*  of  the  kind*. 

13th  v  throughout  the  series  are  uni- 

formly in  accordance  with  those  of  Dr.  Webster. 

I  Ith.  The  IS.SIKI  i  ::.-.-  in  the  s..i  M,V  and  POWER  of  letters,  as  well 
as  the  "liKNKRM.  KILLS  ron  '  arc  more  clearly  presented  in 

"  Sanders'  Spelling  Book,"  than  any  other  work  of  the  kind. 


The  Convention  of  State  and  County  Superintendent*  of  School*  in 
Vermont,  lii-ld  pursuant  to  adjournment  i:.  .'|M-lii-r. 

(Vt.  1 1,  lNl(i.  unanimously  ncOQUMOdtd 

BOOK*,  consisting  of  Sander*'  spelling  i:.M>k,  IVton.d  <>r  I'rimary  >chi*>l 
Primer,  and   5  :  the  uniform  adop- 

tion in  tin  Common  Schools  of  the  Slate.     Of  (hi.-  11    •- 

D.  M.  CAMP  was  1'iv  ;.l,  M. 


From  A.  S.  Lorell,  Princijxil  of  City  Ifi^h  School,  Middleiown ,  Conn. 

Having  carefully  examined  >  in  «r  Si  ir>"i.  B<K>KS,  I  most 

cheerfully  recommend  their  general  adoption,  as  I  In-lievc  them  to  excel  in 
several  respects  any  scries  at  present  before  the  public. 

July,  !"!.">.  A.  S.  Lov 


Extract  from  a  letter  from  Rev.  Stephen  Martindale  and  Dr.  \athaniel 

he*,  the  CuuTity  Committee  on  Reading  Book*  fur  Rutland  Co.,   \  t 
To  Mr.  C.  W.  Sanders:— 

Sir— Co:ii[>;irative|y  il  is  but  light  prawe  to  say  that  the  lesson* 
are  admirably  arranged  to  give  the  necessary  healthful  excrriM-  t»  tin- 
opening  and  expanding  intellect  of  the  pupil;  gradually  increasing  from 
<>!'  ideas  to  those  that  are  complex,  and  by  easy  grada- 
progressing   to  even  the  initiatory   forms  of  profound  rati.*  IM.I- 
tl«n.  all    in  a  elc-;ir.  pure,  .ui-l  .it  times  even  an  elevated  Style,  ill  it  c.miiot 
fail  to  be  of  essential  84-rvice   to  |  u;  d-  •  <•  grand 

crowning  excellmce  of  this  MTI.  ~    i-  (lie  rn-h  vein  of  sound  philosophy 
and  truly  Christian  mor.ility,  th.il  pervades  the  whole;    unconlaminateJ 

.••i-  nt  th.it  McUv  p-i  lido  imit.ition  nf  <  'hr.ftiani 
which  we   ha\e   found   WHIM-  work*  of  this  cl.i*s  to  U-  mil,. 
and  which,  under  i  mask  of  an  outward  r< 

pies  of  our  holy  nligion.  artfully  incnlcite  the  i   •  :i  d  l>y 

divine  i;racr.  Is  (M-rlictly  able  to  render  lilui>e|f  all  that  CIH!  mjinres;   and 

that,  as  a  necessary  .  •  i,^.  .|u. ;,  .    the  i  ':.• 

unnecessary,  it,  in  truth,  but  a  usflcus  and  burdensoiue  form  of  supen>tj. 

In  conclusion,  allow  us  to  BUS  lire  you  that  it  will  afford  us  unalloyed 
<m,  to  learn  that  the  public  appreciate  your  works  in  a 
with  thi  ir  menu. 
respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

I   MARTINDALC, 

IvtJl. 

Walli,,  September  1.^,  l 


SANDERS'  SERIES  OF  SCHOOL  BOOKS. 

F^rom  Daniel  Egan,  Esq.,  Town  Superintendent  of  Schools, 

WUliamsburg,  L.  I. 
Mr.  C.  W.  Sanders: — 

Dear  sir — 1  have  examined  your  School  Books,  and  I  take  occa- 
sion very  cheerfully  to  say  that  they  are  superior  in  method  and  awange- 
inent  to  any  that  I  know  in  use. 

I  should  like  much  to  see  the  entire  list  introduced  in  all  our  schools. 
and  from  conversation  with  them,  1  think  1  speak  the  sentiment  of  the 
Teachers  attached  more  particularly  to  the  schools  under  my  charge. 
I  am,  dear  sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

DANIEL  EGAN. 


An  extract  from  a  communication  to  the  Board  of  Trustees  and  Visitors  of 
the  Common  Schools,  Cincinnati,  Ohio,  signed  by  the  SE  VENTY 
TEACHERS  of  that  city. 

After  examining  such  reading  books  as  we  have  had  access  to,  we  are  of 
opinion  that  the  Series  of  Readers,  known  as  Sanders'  Series,  have  merits 
which  highly  recommend  them  to  your  favorable  notice — some  of  which 
are  peculiar.  We  believe  that  the  important  object  of  gradually  progress- 
ive lessons,  both  in  subjects  and  language,  is  more  nearly  attained  in 
that  series  than  any  other  with  which  we  are  acquainted. 

Signed  by  SEVENTY  TEACHERS,  Cincinnati. 


From  John  Griscom,  Town  Superintendent  of  Schools,  Burlington,  N.  J. 

Having  carefully  looked  over  the  Series  of  Reading  Books  for  Schools, 
prepared  by  Charles  W.  Sanders,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  regarding  them 
as  compilations  exceedingly  well  adapted  to  promote  in  our  common 
schools  correct  and  enlightened  habits  of  intonation,  inflection,  pauses, 
emphasis,  and  fluency  of  utterance.  The  Spelling  and  Definitions  which 
precede  each  lesson,  will  facilitate  the  pupil's  understanding  of  the  mean- 
ing of  his  lessons, — and  a  point  of  more  consequence  than  all,  is,  that  the 
lessons  are  so  selected  as  to  imbue  his  mind  with  the  love  and  the  spirit 
of  Christian  morality,  and  enlightened  views  of  social  duty.  Without  in- 
stituting a  comparison  with  other  books,  I  think  the  guardians  of  youth 
will  hazard  nothing  in  adopting  this  series  of  Readers  into  their  schools. 

JOHN  GRISCOM. 

Burlington,  N.  J.,  12mo.  18th,  1845. 


SANDERS'  FIFTH  READER_in  Press. 

The  repeated  and  urgent  solicitations  of  Teachers  who  have  used  San- 
ders' Readers,  already  published,  and  have  expressed  their  unqualified 
approbation  of  their  merits,  have  induced  the  author  to  prepare  a  FIFTH 
READER  which,  it  is  believed,  will  sustain  the  reputation  acquired  by  the 
previous  Numbers. 

The  work  will  be  ready  for  the  market  the  ensuing  autumn. 


MARK    11.    NEWMAN    *    CO  8.    PUBLICATIONS. 


MUSIC   BOOKS   FOR   CHOIRS 


THE  PSALMODIST. 

By  TB.OM.S  IU-TI-O.I  and  W*.  B.  BKADBCBT.  A  Cbotc*  Collection  of  P«alm«  and 
Hymn  Tune*,  chiefly  new— adapted  to  the  rery  numerous  Metre*  now  in  OM;  to- 
gether with  Chan  ta.  Anthems,  Motel*,  and  Tarioos  other  piece*,  for  the  osw  of  Choir*, 
Congregation*,  Singing  School*  aod  Marie*]  AwoeiattOM,  mott  of  whtrh  are  now 
tor  the  nrst  Urn*  irmntii  to  the  American  public.  ZWnffcM  edition  of  3000 
each.  MS  page*-  "6  cent*. 

This  excellent  collection  of  Church  Mane  ha*  given  general  satisfaction  whmw  tt 
hai  been  introduced. 

THE  NEW  YORK  CHORALIST. 

By  TUOKA.S  UASTWCM  and  WM.  B.  BKABBCBT.    A  Vew  and  Valuable  Collection  of 
Tone*  in  all  the  Metre*,  with  an  entire  new  collection  of  Anthem*  and  Set  Place* 
for  the  tue  of  Choir*,  Congregation*,  Singing  School*,  and  Musical  Boded** ;  being 
one  of  the  moat  complete  Collections  of  Hatred  Miuie  erer  pnblkbed.     76  cent*. 

Thu  book  will  be  foond  to  famtn  many  of  the  ehoieeX  Gem*  in  -Mmfe.    The  UIIUB* 
and  in.trurtu.iii  are  Mhctly  pro«re«tive.  and   are  &*bioned  after   the  met  apMiaJ 


mcihodi  ot  tearhtnc ;  the  Anthem*  and  Set  Piecn*  arc  o(  Ihr  mo*t  intt-roiiu.  > 

the  PublMhen  believe  that  the  whole  book  is  superior  to  anrthiaf  ret  given  to  the  Musical 

public. 

THE  SOCIAL  SINGING  BOOK. 

A  Collection  of  Olee*,  or  Part  Song*,  Round*,  Madrigal*,  &c.,  chiefly  from  Eu- 
ropean Composer*,  with  an  Introductory  Courne  of  Elementary  Exercise*  and  Sol- 
ftffhM,  designed  lor  Singing  Classes  and  School*  of  Ladle*  andOentlemen.  ».y  WM. 
B.  BRADBUKT.  60  evnt*. 


PSALM  AND  HYMN  BOOK  FOR  CHURCHES. 


THE  CHURCH  PSALMIST, 

•     Or  Ptalm*  and  Hymn*  for  the  Public,  Social,  and  Prlrat*  UM  of  Erangelleftl  Chris- 
tian*.   Three  ilae* — 

12mo  die,  in  large  type,  for  the  Pulpit  and  for  the  aged.  §1  00.  Thi*  ropy  con- 
tain", in  addition  to  the  flrat  lines  of  Psalm*  and  Hymns,  a  ropkm*  Index,  con- 
talnlng  the  flnt  tine*  of  stanxas,  and  a  complete  Key  to  music*!  «lpr*«s1pa, 

18mo,  or  middle  *|M.    67  cent*.  SZroo,  or  email  eta*.    66  ttHtt. 

A  Uberal  discount,  from  UMM  price*,  to  mad*  to  Charehx,  making  the  Church 
PsalmUt  the  cheapert  Book  of  the  kind  in  the  market. 


two  of  the  OMwral  AMevoUr  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  at  their  Msete*  la  IN*.  aacatasB 

in  i«« 

hjx»  WJM^ttLigJ^  -*• 

Oflhr    IT.-.l,,l,n...  .n.-IChurrl..-!.   wtuitmtr  ..l.,|.|r.l  tl.r  l...k 

The  Hrnueare  bound  In  a  *r(*rate  *olume  under  the  title  of  "  The  Social 
Thsj  beak  i*  pecvuarl/  adapuJto  UM  C«w*r*wae  MW& 


MARK    H.    NEWMAN    dt    CO  S.    PUBLICATIONS. 


"  1  have  examined  with  some  care  the  '  Manual  of  Orthography  and  Definition,"  prepared 
by  .Mr  J.  N.  McElligott,  of  this  city,  and  take  pleasure  in  commending  it  to  the  t'uvorable 
consideration  of  ihe  friends  of  education. 

"  There  is  a  fund  of  good  sense,  practical  wisdom,  and  useful  arrangement  in  this  work, 
not  often  combined  within  the  same  limits.  It  will,  I  am  persuaded,  greatly  facilitate  the 
study  of  our  language  ;  and  teachers,  as  well  as  learners,  will  find  cause  for  thankfulness  tn 
the  meritorious  author."— Hon  'I'/ieo  Frelinghuysen,  CliancMor  qf  the.  New  York  Uni 
varsity. 

"  '  Manual,  Analytical  and  Synthetical,  of  Orthography  and  Definition,'  by  J.  N.  McElli- 
BOtt,  Principal  of  the  Mechanics'  Society  School,  New  York  Having  been  for  many  yean 
personally  acquainted  with  the  author  of  this  book,  we  were  prepared  to  expect  the  evi- 
dences of  sedulous  industry,  sound  judgment,  and  practical  skill  which  its  pages  exhibit. 
In  his  volume  will  be  found  not  only  the  completion  of  the  object  aimed  at,  but  most  im- 
perfectly reached  in  Oswald's  Etymological  Dictionary.  To*  n's  Analysis,  and  several  other 
works  of  the  kind,  but  also,  such  modifications,  additions  and  improvements  of  the  de- 
sign itself,  as  cannot  fail  to  render  it  a  far  better  substitute  than  any  of  these,  for  a  knowl- 
edge of  Greek  and  Latin  in  the  study  of  English  orthography  and  definition,  and  a  much 
more  serviceable  Manual  for  the  teacher  in  the  business  of  instruction  One  of  the  most 
valuable  additions  consists  in  tracing,  in  a  systematic  way,  the  connection  between  the  pri- 
mary and  metaphorical  meanings  of  words,— a  design  hitherto  scarcely  attempted  in 
school  books.  The  scholar  who  faithfully  studies  it,  will  become  critically  versed  in  the 
formation  and  comparison  of  words,  and  will  seldom  be  in  danger  of  misspelling  a  deriva- 
tive, or  misunderstanding  its  proper  meaning."— Baptist  Advocate. 

NEWMAN'S  PRACTICAL  SYSTEM  OF  RHETORIC, 

Or  the  Rules  and  Principles  of  Style,  inferred  from  examples  of  writing,  to  which  is 
added  a  Historical  Dissertation  ou  English  Style.  By  SAMUEL  P.  NEWMAN,  Pro- 
fessor of  Rhetoric  in  Bowdoin  College.  312  pages,  12mo,  Sheep.  63  cents. 

This  Book  has  been  extensively  introduced  irj{o  the  schools  of  this  country  ;  it  has  also 
been  republished  in  England,  and  is  in  general  use  in  the  schools  of  that  country. 

The  Plan  of  the  Book  is  Philosophical  and  Practical. 

NEWMAN'S  ELEMENTS  OF  POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 

324  pages,  12uio.     63  cents. 

The  undersigned  is  happy  to  express  his  high  opinion  of  the  elements  of  Political  Econ- 
omy prepared  by  the  late  Prof.  Samuel  P.  Newman.  I  think  it  has  all  the  plainness  and 
simplicity  which  characterizes  the  treatise  on  Rhetoric  by  the  same  author,  and  which 
are  so  indispensable  in  a  text  book  for  schools  ;  while  a  scientific  arrangement  and  the 
many  technical  terms  have  been  preserved,  the  style  is  so  perspicuous,  and  the  illustra- 
tions are  so  pertinent,  as  to  render  the  book  attractive  to  the  young  scholar.  Another  ex- 
cellence of  the  work  is  its  adaptation  to  the  habits  and  institutions  of  our  countrymen.  On 
this  point  the  author  bestowed  special  pains,  and.  as  it  is  believed,  his  success  was  cor- 
responding. It  is  not  a  compilation  from  an  European  work,  based  on  usages  and  a  state 
of  society  which  have  no  existence  here,  but  it  is  throughout  "an  American  produc- 
tion. " 

The  great  principles  of  the  science  are  stated  with  as  much  fulness  and  detail  as  is  con- 
distent  with  the  size  of  the  book  and  its  adaptation  to  its  contemplated  topics.  The  .au- 
thor has  exhibited  great  liberality  of  views — the  interests  of  one  class  are  not  represented 
as  hostile  to  those  of  another,  but  a  measure  which  is  really  promotive  of  the  prosperity 
of  one  part  of  the  country  must  exert  a  favorable  influence  upon  other  parts.  The  work 
is  cordially  commended  as  an  excellent  text  book  to  teachers  and  all  who  are  interested  in 
the  great  cause  of  education.— B.  B.  Edwards,  Pro/,  in  Andover  Theological  Seminary, 

PACKARD'S  XENOPHON'S  MEMORABILIA. 

The  Memorabilia  of  Socrates  by  Xenophon,  with  English  Notes  by  ALPHEUS  S. 
PACKARD,  Professor  of  Rhetoric,  Oratory,  and  Classical  Literature  in  Bowdoin  Col- 
lege. Third  edition.  256  pages,  12mo,  Muslin.  $1  00. 

As  affording  an  introduction  to  the  Greek  Philosophy  and  Morals,  no  one  of  the  Greek 
Classics  is  more  valuable  to  the  student  than  the  Memorabilia  of  Xenophon  ;  while  at  the 
same  time,  on  account  of  the  matchless  simplicity  and  elegance  of  its  style,  and  the  vari- 
ety and  spirit  of  its  matter,  no  one  is  more  attractive.  In  the  grammatical  Notes  and 
comments  by  Professor  Packard,  he  has  sought  to  excite  the  pupil  to  observe  and  to  in- 
quire for  himself,  rather  than  to  relieve  him  from  the  necessity  of  labor. 

PARLEY'S  UNIVERSAL  HISTORY. 
PARLEY'S  YOUNG  AMERICAN. 


MARK    H.    NKYVMAN    *    CO  8.    PUBLICATIONS. 


PORTER'S  RHETORICAL  READER. 

Tl»-  llhetorical  Re»  I  if  <•(  I tutroetfons  tat  regulating  the  rote*,  with 

Rhetorical  NoUtion,  illiutrafing  Inflection,  EmphaaU  and  Modulation,  MX!  a 
OOWM  of  Rhetorical  KxercUea  d«rfgned  for  the  OK  of  AeaOemiei  and  High  Rrhoota. 
By  K»i*ExtR  PORTER,  D  D.,  PnaUrat  of  the  Theological  Seminary,  Andow.  804 
pag**,  HMO.  63c*mu. 

to  rar  anything,  by  w«v  of  introduction,  to  tab  piiiialai  and 

*  than  I 


ha*  already  paacrd  throufh  mure  than  thrre 

i  ...Ir    .p..ak.  lor   !_...  II    ,.  to   the  mrri.   u!  tht- 


WILLSON'S   HISTORICAL  SERIES. 

\V1I.I.  MI.K   AMKKICAN    HIST"KY. 

\VIU.SO.VS  HISToltV  i)K  TIIK  t'MTKI)  STATK 

uiux.vs   \\iri:n-\\  III<I-..KV. 

\VII.I.SD\-s  iMMntr.llK.NSIVK  I'llMtr  Or    \Mt.Kir\N   HISTORY. 
OUTLI.NKS  .  .|    (.KM:K\I. 


NO.  l.— WILLSON'S  JUVENIbE  AMERICAN  HISTORY. 

KIT  Primary  School*  ;  on  the  same  general  plan  as  the  HUtory  of  the  United  StaUr 
Kmbracing  the  mo*t  inCereHting  and  morally  Inntrurtire  inciJenU  and  eTetiU  la 
American  History,  commencing  with  the  Life  of  Colombo*.  Uaudcomely  lllua- 
trated.  160  page*. 

-  .Iciicned  for  vountrr  cliunc*  in  School*:  eommencinv  « 
•   it.  it  civei  a  ukrtrti  of  our  hinlorr  down  U>  the  pnMent  d*> 

dHBctihr  h*«  fteen  encountiT.-.l  in  intradneint  the  nin.lv  of  Hiitorr  into  School*,  from  the 

marked  .I.--  .  ,1  l.ir  urn-  in  juvenile  chucni.u  wt>ll  in  i>»ini  of 

t  adaptedueu  lo  Ihc  wanU  of  the  youni.    Mr   Willion  ha* 

I-OMII  il.-.|  lhi<    «ork  "illi  !h.     l.lnti.!i-r«  n!   l.n    |nr.!n  .  .-..r.«   In  f.irr    hnrn«    and   h.i«   .  \\- 

dealhr  done  what  nun  can  .;• 

baa  failhfadjr  collated  and  Tented  hi*  bet*  and  date*,  and  a*  a  natural  roniK-i| 

M>i.-    rv,-,  M.-no-      hi.  nurrurivr  i«  tu,-n  in  .1  rlr.iv  .mil-!'-  •!>  If.  r..n,;,r,  •h.-ri, il.lt-    lo  Ihr  >.  ry 

ui  of  Wuhinfton.  or  Franklin. 

an-  in  Knfiuce  forcible  an<l  '  new,  a  diiti 

•in-  man.  a*  if  we  hnu  >  *  form  no  unimpon.> 

•   tli  u«    Hi.-  hi 

"Many  of  the  Idioa*  are  armmpantod  IT  JvdWoM  aiHaiial  illiMtration*.  and  to  the  de 

-moriai  derir. 
••  part*  deMribtd :  hi  re- 
•  Tilled  in  a  marginal  map.thiu 
aMoriatinf  the  e»ent  with  IN  N>  .lily,  aiid  more  deeplr  imprw*u>f  both  oa  the  mind  of  the 

""-  80  to  M  HiMotied  trwUl  wOpen^t.  UM  author  ha*  exetaded  that  aoaattwl  att«*an  to 

.-. ,(  l,l.«.l.n-,l.   ...   ir.-...T,,IK     .,,.1  tlmt   l..i  in  Urn..  ..I  i..!n,,-nii,....   l.ii.l  l,-l..r,-  ihr 

rr.i.l.-r.  of  H,4t.,rr     th,.  rh.r     •       -i  ••       ..,.-k     .h.MiH  al«««-  r,-r,«i,m.-nd  it      .-urh.ir 

.,.,-!,..„.  ran  „„(,•  I-.,,)  to  Mt.iilr   the  In,..    „(  th.    .  I,   1,1         H,.  ,-    m,»nl  t-rTrrl  I.    .url,     II,  ,1 
:..,  i  I  ,--.   .houl.l  !..    .,,;.,»,:  ••  .  n,  n,  .....   ..  i  .-.I   N.,k  .   nn '.-..  il  U-  in  -.;  -,,-.  ,.„.:.  .,1  II.,  m 

••  A*  a  mean-,  •  put  ni*tonr.  we  have 

*«>rnnoe<mal  tolhi*  workofMr  WiDmn.  and  from  our  owi.  hirh  opinion  of  it*  merit.  *up- 

:  :i«uncton.  we  do  not  bu*Jt»ii  to 

OHimif.i.l  It  to  Ihr  pill.'ir.  H«  urll  lillr.l  for  rrnrrul   u.r    "       Wtlirm   Sf/J/x,/  Journal 

NO.  •: — WILLSON'S  HISTORY  OF  THE   UNITED  STATES. 

Commencing  with  the  dlacorery  of  America,  and  bronitht  down  to  the  4th  of  March, 
1M6  ThU  work  prwiaota  the  following elaiau  to  public  favor  :-l*t.  Superior  Ae- 
curary  21  Chrooologteal  Arrangament  of  DaU*  wholly  In  new  My  to.  8d.  Illua- 
trattre  Map*  and  Chart*,  aad  ropiooi  Oeograph>al  Note*,  exhibiting  to  the  eye,  and 
describing  all  Important  locallUeo  referred  to.  4th.  Marginal  Arrangement  of  th* 
Question*.  858  page*,  12mo 


MARK    H.    NEWMAN    <fe    CO  S.    FUBLICATIONS. 


The  Publishers  invite  the  critical  attention  of  teachers  and  others  interested  in  edu- 
cation to  the  merits  of  Willson's  History  of  the  United  States,  for  Schools.  It  has  been 
introduced,  after  a  rigid  examination,  into  the  Public  Schools  of  New  York  City—  the 
fftate  Normal  School  at  Albany — the  Public  Schools  in  Newark,  Brooklyn,  Rochester 
Buffalo.  Cincinnati  and  St  Louis — it  is  in  use  also  in  many  of  the  best  Male  and  FemaVt 
Academies  ami  Seminaries  in  the  country  We  ask  its  farther  introduction  on  its  merits 
alone,  firmly  persuaded  that  it  has  merits  possessed  by  no  other  School  History.  Its  pe- 
culiarities are — superior  accuracy,  both  in  facts  and  dates— geographical  Notes  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  page, and  small  Maps  and  Plans,  illustrating  and  having  direct  reference  to  the 
facts  recorded  on  the  same  page — Chronological  arrangement  of  dates  wholly  in  "  New 
Style" — Marginal  arrangement  of  the  Questions,  forming  a  complete  Analysis  of  the  His- 
tory ;  the  book  also  contains  a  miniature  Chart  of  American  History,  with  dates  from  1509 
to  is«.  Three  maps,  showing  by  means  of  light  and  shade,  the  progress  of  civilization 
and  settlement  The  history  embraces  a  period  of  three  hundred  and  fifty-three  years, 
dvided  into  four  periods,  beginning  with  the  discovery  of  America  by  Columbus  The 
best  histori-ins  have  been  consulted,  public  documents  searched,  errors  in  other  his- 
tories corrected,  and  the  whole  adapted  with  admirable  skill  to  practical  use  in  the  school- 
room. The  Publishers  invite  a  comparison  with  any  other  history  for  schools  extant. 
The  book  is  printed  on  good  paper  and  substantially  bound,  and  is  furnished  to  schools 
at  as  low  a  price  as  any  of  the  interior  histories  containing  the  same  amount  of  reading 
matter.  Teachers  and  School  Committees  will  be  furnished  with  copies  for  examination 
by  the  Publishers 

Read  the.  following  from  Cincinnati :  "The  Text  Book  Committee  haying  examined 
Marcius  >villson's  History  of  the  United  States,  would  hereby  recommend  it  as  a  suitable 
book  for  the  use  of  the  Common  Schols  of  the  city.  We  would  suggest  that  hereafter  it 
should  be  used  in  the  place  of  Mrs  Willard's  Abridgment.  The  work  now  recommended 
is  one  of  great  accuracy,  clear,  and  forcible  style,  embracing  a  period  from  1492,  the  dis- 
covery of  the  country,  to  1845, the  opening  of  the  administration  of  James  K.  Polk.  This 
History,  we  think,  is  well  adapted  to  the  use  of  Schools  The  miniature  Chart  of  American 
History  shows  at  a  glance.  l>y  means  of  light  anil  shade,  the  progress  of  civilization  and  the 
settlement  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  upon  this  continent.  The  arrangement  of  the  work  '. 
into  four  several  parts  is  natural, and  renders  the^prk  easily  remembered  Period  1.  Em- 
braces the  History  of  Voyages  and  Discoveries  till  1607,  the  first  settlement  at  Jam'.i- 
town,  Virginia,  a  period  of  115  years,  reriod  II  Extends  from  the  settlement  of  Jamjs- 
town  to  the  American  Revolution  in  1775.  168  years  Period  III  From  the  commence- 
ment of  the  American  Revolution  to  the  administration  of  George  Washington  in  1789.  a 
period  of  U  years.  Period  I V  From  George  Washington's  administration  in  1789  to  James 
K  Polk  in  1845.  a  period  of  56  years  The  marginal  dates,  (new  style,)  as  here  arranged, 
we  consider  of  great  importance  to  a  school  book,  when  dates  are  taught  as  a  part  of 
Common  School  instruction  All  which  is  respectfully  submitted  "—Cftai.  &.  Bryant, 
John  A  Warder,  Wm  Phillips,  Jr.,  Text  Book  Committee. 

'I  concur  in  the  recommendation  of  Willson's  History  as  a  Text  Book."—  Peyton  S. 
Symme*  Jan.  18,  1847. 

On  ihe  29d  Feb  ,  1847,  the  Board  of  Trustees  and  Visitors  of  the  Common  Schools  of 
Cincinnati,  unanimously  adopted  the  following  resolution: 

"  Resolved,  That  the  United  States  History,  by  Marcius  Willson  be,  and  the  same  is 
hereby  adopted  by  the  Board  of  Trustees  and  Visitors,  as  the  Text  Book  to  be  used  ic  the 
Common  Schools  of  Cincinnati,  in  place  of  the  Abridgment  by  Mrs.  Willard  " 

NO.  3.— WILLSON'S  AMERICAN  HISTORY. 

School  Edition  and.  Library  Edition,  comprising— BOOK  I. — Historical  Sketches  of 
the  Indian  Tribes,  with  a  Description  of  American  Antiquities,  and  an  Inquiry  Into 
their  origin,  and  the  Origin  of  the  Indian  Tribes.  BOOK  II.— History  of  the  United 
States,  (same  as  the  above,)  with  Appendices  additional,  showing,  1st,  Our  relations 
with  European  History  during  our  Colonial  existence — an  Account  of  the  Reforma- 
tion—History of  the  Puritan  sects,  &c.  ;  2d,  An  Account  of  Parties  in  England  du- 
ring our  Revolution,  and  the  European  wars  in  which  England  was  involved  by 
that  Contest ;  3d,  An  Examin.itien  of  the  Character,  Tendency,  and  Influences  of 
our  National  Government,  and  an  Historical  Sketch  of  the  Parties  that  divided  the 
Country  from  the  close  of  the  Revolution  to  the  termination  of  the  Second  War  with 
England  BOOK  III. — Part  1.  History  of  the  present  British  Provinces,  from  their 
Early  Settlement  by  the  French  to  the  present  time — comprising :  History  of  the 
Canadas— of  Nova  Scotia  and  Cape  Breton — Prince  Edward's  Island — New  Bruns- 
wick and  Newfoundland.  Also,  the  Early  History  of  Louisiana.  Part  2.  History 
of  Mexico  from  the  Conquest  by  Cortez,  to  the  commencement  of  the  War  with  the 
United  States  in  1846.  Part  3.  History  of  Texas,  from  the  time  of  its  discovery  by 
La  Salle  in  1684,  to  the  time  cf  its  admission  into  the  American  Union  in  1845.— 
One  rol.  large  octavo,  672  pages. 


MARK    H.    NEWMAN    A    COS.    PfBLICA  . 


The  follow  mr  from  l**_tHHttHtlt*  Journal  f-  EagU  o(  Majr  5.  1847.  U  a  jiut  (rib- 
Ma  lo  n..    ;  -toooal  Work* 
"Tbew  vi.Iual.l*  production*.  noaii»tin«  of  Juvrmlr  Huiorjr.  •  Hiirorr  of  ih«  Doited 

will  r.  a.iil)  eoottDrnd 

frrut   n  .loin   uiij  in  vrumc  IhoM  fal«e  iruentXhns  which 

•..ur-r«.  mul    Ihcy 

'i»  as  correct  ia  UM  oonMUMM  HHtoDoca  in  wwcli  M  (linen  from  hu  coo~ 
>  Mime  of  otir  • 

or«»<. 

••rokec*  belonx  lo  ttao  .Molnliau  Ijuiily  .  lh«t  I'oM  I(or»l  WM 

.  h.in.lrr.)  «i>d  «fty  «r- 
»r«»«  in- 
.1  lielher  teacher*  we  not  bound  immc.lni.  l>  u>  «rr. 

• 
found  oa  ordinmry  map*,  ii  a  valnnl.le  ifaproremenl.    The  learner  will  low  all  uMMHI  M 

onr  for  SefaooU  hMaUoreoixd  the  •Daylifled  mmn»nniiiUt»u. 

. 

wvk.  Albonr.  Boca«rt»f.  BuflUo.  CineiaMti 

and  .St.  IXMUI 

NO.   4.— WILLSON'S    COMPREHENSIVE    CHART    OF    AMERICAN 

II  IS TOKY.     On  Hollers  and  VarMirJ. 

"  an  elrrant  Chart  oi  our  d»  n  t  'ountrv'»  Hintonr,  nrntlr  cnfraTed,  colored,  rar- 

tae  ami  a  half      II  a  ar- 
rnnrrd  oil  a  plan  «•««• 

'   any  intelligent  rhild  can  n  ailil\  urulenlarMl  it 

- 
ery  an 


•  •.iicaiiffiri-ai  i  of  it*  value 

The  folio  wine  wUv.tH  from  n  umerom  fommendatory  notice*  of  the  Chan,  are 

uter  and 
•  >'j      An  exarii 

.•her  *rhoolii   : 
Itrrrtt  acreuKxi  • 

.•'.  and  PrtfUtnl  qflltt  Sett>  York  Slat  Ttmefitrf  «»»nr(«rib>l 
-Thm«  a  •(.lon.lid  Chart.  roo»t  *dmiral4y  adapted  to  I  be  purpose,  for  • 


lceof  lb«  Piii.li.-  P 

-  P    N  .    '  •    V     •  V      i>    '/•/,;..•'>..-••;/  >.,^-r,n.vn,i 

•  •••nrraphr  ;  ami 
\>  ilh  tin-  ux-   n 


NO.  --.—WILLSON'S  "OUTLINES  OF  GENERAL  HISTORY," 

irrnwl  Hi-'.  •  >nttion.  and  will,  whrn  ramplrted.  be 

the  mo*  pwfcrt  book  of  thr  kin  !  -k  will  be  on  U>«  aaja* 

Ocnenl  1'lnn  and  Amngement  with  Mr.  WIIUoo'n  other  HittorU* 


MARK    H.    NEWMAN    &    CO  8.    PUBLICATIONS. 


MUSIC  BOOKS  FOR   SCHOOLS. 


FLORA'S  FESTIVAL. 

A  Musical  Recreation  for  Schools,  Juvenile  Choirs,  Classes,  &c.,  together  with  Songs 
Duetts  and  Trios,  Solfeggios,  Scales,  and  Plain  Tunes  for  singing  by  Note,  in  thir- 
teen keys,  for  the  advancement  of  youth  who  have  acquired  some  knowledge  of  the 
elements,  as  taught  in  the  Young  Choir  and  Young  Melodist.  Edited  by  WK.  B 
BRADBURY.  144  pages.  25  cents. 

The  leading  music  in  thia  book  was  performed  by  Eight  Hundred  Children  in  the  Broad- 
way Tabernacle  three  successive  evenings,  in  the  Spring  of  1847 ;  and  hundreds  were  nol 
able  to  fain  admittance  No  Teacher  or  Composer  has  ever  been  so  successful  in  adapt- 
ing music  tor  Children  as  Mr.  Bradbury. 

THE  YOUNG  MELODIST. 

A  New  and  Rare  Collection  of  Social,  Moral,  and  Patriotic  Songs,  designed  for 
Schools  and  Academies— composed  and  arranged  for  one,  two,  or  three  voices.  By 
WM.  B.  BRADBURY.  Eighth  edition.  144  pages.  25  cents. 

This  is  a  most  charming  book  for  little  Singers :  its  adoption  and  use  411  Schools  has,  in 
numberless  cases,  by  its  benevolent  influence,  done  away  with  the  use  of  the  cruel  rod  Let 
Teachers  try  the  effects  of  such  pieces  as  the  following:  "  Come  Sweetly  Sing,"  "  Wel- 
come to  School,"  "  The  Golden  Rule,"  "  Our  Native  Land,"  and  many  others  of  the  one 
hundred  and  twenty  in  the  book,  and  they  will  be  charmed  with  it. 

THE  YOUNG   CHOIR, 

Or  School  Singing  Book,  original  and  selected.     By  WM.  B.  BRADBURT  and  C.  W. 
SANDERS.   Twenty-fifth  edition.    144  pages.    25  cents. 
More  than  50,000  copies  of  this  little  book  have  been  sold,  since  its  publication  in  1842. 

THE  SCHOOL  SINGER, 

Or  Young  Choir's  Companion— a  Choice  Crllection  of  Music,  original  and  selected, 
for  Juvenile  Singing  Schools,  Sabbath  Schools,  Public  Schools,  Academies,  Select 
Classes,  &c.,  including  some  of  the  most  popular  German  Melodies,  with  English 
words  adapted,  or  Poetry  translated  from  the  German  expressly  for  this  work  ;  also, 
a  Complete  Course  of  Instruction  in  the  Elements  of  Vocal  Music,  founded  on  the 
German  system  of  Kubler.  By  WM.  B.  BRADBURY  and  C.  W.  SANDERS.  Tenth 
edition,  204  pages.  37&  cents. 

This  book  has  also  been  extensively  introduced  into  Schools,  and  is  in  very  general  use 
to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  both  Teachers  and  Scholars. 

THE  CRYSTAL  FOUNT. 

A  New  Temperance  Song  Book,  beautifully  arranged  with  Hymns,  Songs,  and  Music 
entirely  new.  By  THOMAS  HASTINGS.  This  book  is  admirably  adapted  for  Temper- 
ance Choirs,  Meetings  and  Celebrations — being  arranged  in  parts  for  Bass  and 
Treble  voice.  112  pages.  25  cents. 

This  Temperance  Song  Book  will  commend  itself  to  all  friends  of  Temperance :  it  con- 
tains upwards  of  fifty  pieces  of  Music,  new  and  appropriate,  for  Temperance  meetings. 
The  price  is  fixed  very  low,  in  order  to  give  it  a  wide  circulation. 

MRS.  DANA'S  NORTHERN  HARP! 

Consisting  of  Sacred  and  Moral  Songs,  adapted  to  the  most  popular  Melodies,  for 
the  Piano  Forte  and  Guitar,  half  bound.  $1  00 

THE  CHRISTIAN  LYRE. 

A  Collection  of  Hymn*  and  Tunes  adapted  for  Social  worship,  Prayer  meetings,  and 
Revivals  of  Religion.  Twenty-sixth  edition. 

THE  TEMPERANCE  LYRE  BY  MRS.  DANA: 

Consisting  of  Songs  and  Glees  for  Temperance  meetings,  set  to  popular  alr§.    12| 


MARK    U.    NEWMAN    *    COS.    PUBLICA 


DAY  AND  THOMSON'S  SERIES : 

•CINQ  A  NEW  AND  COMPLETE  COURSE  OP  MATHEMATICS  FOR  SCHOOLS  AND 

ACADEMIES,  BY  JKREM1AH  DAY,  Lt.D.,  LATK  PRESIDENT  OF  TALE 

COU.KCJE,    AND  JAMES  B.  THOMSON,  A.M. 

The  following  U  •  cummary  of  thr  General  PUn  :— 

1.  The  aerie*  U  praetieal  in  the  fullest  MUM  of  the  term. 

2.  Unity  o/'/'iV  ruu«  through  UM  whol«  eerie* ;  while  It  embrace*  all  the  fubjeeto 
noceeeary  for  a  thorough  matkrmnltral  education. 

8-  Great  care  U  taken  never  to  anticipate  a  principle,  and  never  to  o*e  one  principle 
in  the  explanation  of  another,  until  if  ha*  Itself  been  trptatntd  or  demonstrate*. 

4.  It  abound*  hi  example*  for  practice.  Without  muck  pructie*  It  I*  impovible  to 
make  the  application  of  the  rule*  if  fit  tnuttriUod  and  Ttmtmbrrtd. 

6.  The  drfinltiom  are  deeigned  to  be  ample  and  exact,  yet  free  from  redundancies  of 


6   The  arrangement  of  labjecU  U  lyttrmatic  and  natural. 

7.  The  mode  of  reasoning  U  tnJuctiet,  clear,  and  logical. 

8.  The  rule*  are  ptain  and  brief. 

9.  Every  principle  U  carefully  analyzed,  and  the  reason  of  the  rale*  folly  explained. 

10.  One  principle  U  explained  at  a  time,  and  a  sufficient  number  of  example*  I*  given 
under  it,  to  make  it*  application  U'll  umleritood. 

11.  When  a  principle  or  term  ha«  been  defined  in  one  part  of  the  eerie*,  if  that  prin- 
ciple or  term  occur*  in  a  didbvrat  part,  the  same  definition  to  iiaed. 

12.  The  explanation*  are  nmplt,  direct,  and  clear  ;  and  the  example*  for  illustration,  are 
practical  and  appoint. 

NO.  I.— MENTAL  ARITHMETIC, 

Or  Vint  LeMon*  in  Nuniben  for  <  hit  Jren,  by  JAMS*  n  TBOMSOX,  A.  M.    Kew  edi- 
tion, rerited  and  enlarged.     ISmo,  108  page*,  half  bound.     15  cent*. 

Thu  work  comm.-nro  with  the  fimple«t  ronilmiation*  of  namben.  and  fraduallu  ad- 
raocee,  a*  the  utintl  of  the  learner  expand*,  and  u  prepared  to  comprehend  more  dimcult 


"Thonuon't  '  Mental  Arithmetic'  I  think  i«  much  the  beat  I  hare  ever  examined.    U 
Mem*  to  me  to  be  the  very  thine  needed  by  the  youthful  mind,  when  fnt  entering  upon 
the  eoence  of  number*."— Jame*  tt'tilfftrt.  A  M.,  Sup'l  OMM.  ScJtutU,  Greeny 
tie  York. 


late  fr^f.  Mathfnatia.  city  <.' 

"  I  take  pleaiure  in  ttatinc  that  theplan  and 
any  with  which  I  am  acquainted     The  d 
piece  ol  apperetui.  the 


contribute  (really  to  lU  UMfulneei  and  ralue.  awl  are  tumcieat  to  co*»aie»d 
•very  teacher  of  Cocnmoo  School*."-  W  F  Pmttp*.  J9w..  FrUtdful  •/«•>  H 
He***  mttacJud  to  the  NM*  York  8UU  Kormmi  Bditl. 


NO.  a^-PRACTICAL  ARITHMETIC, 

Uniting  the  Inductive  with  the  Synthetic  mode*  of  Instraetfon,  aUo  illwtrating  the 
principle*  of  OaoeelaOoo,  for  SebooU  sad  A«a4essi»s.  By  JAHSS  B.  TIOMSOV,  A.M. 
New  edition,  rrrUed  and  enlarged.  UBM>,  MI  |N«M,  telf  boond.  Wee.* 

The  deeicn  of  lh»  work  U  lo  lead  the  papd  to  a  knowledce  of  Anthmetjc  by  tnjvction. 
to  anai*zt  errrj  pnnctple  wparatelr.  and  to  make  him  Ihoroocfclr  scqsstnUi  w 
reocon  of  every  orieraUaQ  which  be  M  reqwed  to  periona.    It  aboaadi  10  exaaapk*,aod 
it  tminiMry  wetKML 

-  ThoeMon't  Practical  AHth*»etk  will  eotssMnd  Itaolf  lo  TMtfceri  far  Ux  Clfmnm  mmt 
rrectHim  with  -hirh  ibinilrtaad  pn  net  plea  are  ataled.  lor  the  Dumber  and  vane'  y  o(  ex 
amplee  rt  rornnhe*  aa  esereiiea  for  the  papil.  anH  eipectaOy  for  tb*  or*  whir*  t>*  author 
ha*  taken  to  pi««**jl  a|ia*or>naie  t«piMUeo*  and  okwrralMMM  whatever  Uwf  are  neoikd. 
to  dear  up  any  d**e«RMe  that  are  Hub  to  emhamM  the  learner  la  raoaMMMMlfcs 
work  w  a  elae*  book  for  pwOa.il  te  not  •nimportant  lo  atale.  that  the  author  haa  him 


MARK    H.    NEWMAN    <b    CO  S.    PUBLICATIONS. 


•elf  had  much  experience  in  the  business  of  instruction,  and  h.is  thus  had  occasion  to 
know  where  there  was  room  for  improvement  in  the  elementary  treatises  in  common  use. 
Without  such  experience,  no  one  can  be  qualified  to  prepare  a  class-book  for  schools  — 
A  D.  Stanley,  A  M.,  Prof  of  Mattir. malic*,  Yale  College. 

"  I  am  particularly  pleased  with  the  practical  character  of  your  Practical  Arithmetic,  the 
tystematic  and  natural  arrangements  of  its  parts,  the  exactness  of  the  definitions,  the 
clfarn^sa  with  which  the  principlfs are  explained  and  illustrated,  and  the  concise,  yet  ex- 
plicit language  with  which  the  rules  are  stated.  You  have  done  a  good  service  by  re- 
moving from  the  tables  of  Weights  and  Measures  all  denominations  out  of  use,  and  by  in- 
troducing those  adopted  by  the  General  Government.  The  work,  in  fine,  is  well  adnpted 
tothe  purposes  of  instruction  "—Samuel  Green,  A.  M  ,  Principal  of  the  Philips'  Grammar 
ScJiooi,  Boston,  Mass. 

"  New  York,  June,  1847. 

"  The  undersigned.  Commissioners  and  Inspectors  of  Common  Schools  of  the  Thir- 
teenth Ward,  take  great  pleasure  in  stating  that  after  a  careful  and  prolonged  examina- 
tion into  the  relative  merits  of  a  great  number  of  Arithmetics,  presented  for  their  consid- 
eration, (which  number  embrace  all  the  most  popular  ones  in  present  use,)  have  unani- 
mously adopted  Day  and  Thotitson's  Mental,  and  Practical  ^^thmetics  for  use  in  Ward 
tichool,  .V«  19  ,  recently  organized  and  opened  under  theicmwIEbiion.  These  books  being 
considered  for  perspicuity  of  arranjAjujt,  and^^a;>4a^jMK|B^comprehension  of  the 
pupil,  with,  or  in  the  absence  of  ^H  ^^ki  prelnble  rai^^P^BRs  on  the  same  subject, 
which  have  come  under  their  (•••Roii.''^!!  illin>mL.  Walters,  William  Tyler 
Anderson,  Charles  D.  Field.  (Oneiitjimtoj  in  the.  Board  ) 

NO.  3.— KEY  TO  PRACTICAL   ARITHMETIC 

Containing  tke  Answers  to  all  the  Examples  ;  with  many  suggestions,  and  the  solu- 
tion of  the  most  difficult  questions.  12mo.  ,38  cents. 

*»*  The  Mental  Arithmetic  has  been  published  about  a  year,  and  the  Practical  Arith- 
metic about  a  year  and  a  half.  They  have  been  adopted  by  the  State  of  Rhode  Island  ; 
Ontario,  Livingston,  Onondara,  Greene,  and  Oswego  counties,  N.  Y.  ;  the  City  of  New 
Haven,  Connecticut ;  Springfield,  Mass  ;  Buffalo.  N  Y  ,  and  a  large  number  of  Acade- 
mies and  Schools.  No  »chool  books  have  given  more  entire  satisfaction  than  these  Arith- 
metics. Their  success,  it  is  believed,  has  been  unparalleled. 

NO.  *H— HIGHER  ARITHMETIC, 

Or  the  Theory  and  Application  of  Numbers,  combining  the  Analytic  and  Synthetic 
modes  of  Instruction,  adapted  to  Scientific  and  Commercial  purposes.  By  JAMKS  B. 
THOMSOS,  A  M.  Large  12mo,  full  bound  in  leather.  75  cents.  Just  published. 

This  work  is  complete  in  itself,  commencing  with  the  fundamental  rules,  and 
extending  to  the  highest  department  of  the  Science.  It  is  constructed  on  the 
principle,  that  in  Arithmetic,  "  there  is  a  place  for  everything,  and  that  every- 
thing should  be  in  its  proper  place  ;"  that  there  is  a  reason  for  every  operation,  and 
the  learner  should  understand  it.  It  is  designed  for  advanced  classes  in  Schools 
and  Academies,  who  are  preparing  for  the  important  office  of  Teaching,  or  extended 
mercantile  pursuits. 

NO.  5.— KEY  TO  THE  HIGHER  ARITHMETIC: 

Containing  the  Answers  to  all  the  Examples,  with  many  suggestions,  &c 

NO.  6.— ELEMENTS  OF  ALGEBRA, 

Being  a  School  Edition  of  Day's  Large  Algebra.     75  cents.  (Durrie  &  Peck.) 

This  work  is  designed  to  be  an  ea*y  and  luciil  transition  from  the  study  of  Arithmetic 
to  the  higher  brunches  of  Mathematics  It  is  highly  recommended  by  Prof.  Olmsted.  and 
the  Faculty  of  Yale  College  ;  also  by  Bishop  Potter,  Presidents  Nott,  Waylaud,  Hopkins 
North,  and  others. 

NO.  7.— KEY  TO  THE  ELEMENTS  OF  ALGEBRA. 

Containing  all  the  Answers,  with  numerous  suggestions.   75  cents.  (Durrie  &  Peck  ) 

NO.  8 — ELEMENTS  OF  GEOMETRY, 

Being  an  Abridgement  of  Lcgendre's  Geometry,  with  Practical  Notes  and  Illustra- 
tions. Bound  in  leather.  75  cents.  (Durrie  &  Peck.) 

This  work  has  received  the  warmest  approbation  of  many  of  the  most  eminent  Teach- 
ers and  practical  Educators 

NO.   9.— ELEMENTS   OF  TRIGONOMETRY,    MENSURATION,   AND 

LOGARITHMS.     In  press. 

NO.  10.— ELEMENTS  OF  SURVEYING; 

Adapted  both  to  the  wants  of  the  Learner  and  the  Practical  Surveyor.    (Pub.  Soon  ) 


University  of  California 

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LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

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McELLIGOTTS  YOUNG  ANALYZER: 

Being  an  e»iy  outline  of  tb«  eoane  of  inntrortlrm  In  the  "fgllrti  UnfiMft  pr*. 
Mated  in  M eKIUfott'i  Analytical  Manual,  MfiMd  to  MTV*  UM  doubU  purpoa*  of 
8p«lUn(  Book  and  Diotionary,  in  the  youn(er  clam*  In  Seboolf.    By  J.  N   M<  Eui- 
BOTT. 
The  ilmicn  and  value  of  UMM  booki  will  b«  tuftcirnilf  ibown  10  UM  fooowinf  ream- 


A      rin  n  c        ""iiiiii  alii  nil  an 


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